


Diligence

by kaientai



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Now rated E for Everyone, Requited Unrequited Love, Rewrite, Slow Burn, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, it's at the last chap doe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 49,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25177801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaientai/pseuds/kaientai
Summary: Diligence requires the courage of a fool who wouldn't think twice before walking into an open flame, and in the span of a few months, your childhood friend Atsumu proved that he truly is one of the biggest fools to date.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader
Comments: 43
Kudos: 546





	1. Chapter 1

“I think I’m in love with you. You wanna go out with me or somethin’?”

Like most people on the receiving end of a confession from a best friend of eighteen years, you drop the volleyballs you were previously rounding up to toss into the ball cart. They bounce idly on the floor as you stare at Atsumu like he grew a second head (which no one really needs because the world will end if Miya Atsumu was given a second mouth to run but that was besides the point). 

You probably failed to mask the shock on your face because that familiar defense mechanism of his almost immediately cranks into motion when his mouth curls into a smirk, telling you he was about to retract what he just said with some off-handed remark. But before Atsumu can tuck this curious exchange away, you clamp your hands on both of his shoulders with some excessive force, the look in your eyes prompting him not to say another word just yet. The haughtiness in his face melts into curiosity as he affixes you with a honey-eyed stare. 

“Don’t be so quick to take that back,” you scold him. 

“Who said I was?” he questions, carding his fingers through his bleached hair with a culpable look on his face.

“I _know_ you, Atsumu.” A frown settles on your face as you brace your hands on your hips, appalled at his feigned ignorance. “One sign that things aren’t going your way, you bail out on it in a heartbeat.”

There’s a spark in his eye that you can’t quite place, but it doesn’t linger long enough for you to spare it another thought. Atsumu avoids your gaze but stays rooted in place. Your heart is hammering in your ribcage at this point because, how else could you possibly respond to his profession of love when the fact that you’re head-over-heels for his twin brother is as clear as a glaring neon sign? 

You weren’t exactly discreet with how you felt about Osamu. You’ve been fond of the quieter, more respectful of the twins for as long as you can remember and you saw no reason to keep that under the radar. But it’s also no secret that Osamu doesn’t really see you as anything more than a friend, an almost-sister—and that’s okay. He doesn’t owe you his reciprocation, nor are you asking for it. But not even the most blatant of rejections can dispel the feelings you still harbored for him. 

“It’s stupid, ain't it?” Atsumu barks out a mirthless laugh. “Knowing how you feel about that shitty ‘Samu, and I still had the balls to confess.” 

The self-loathing lathered in his words makes you wince. It’s unfamiliar, it’s _foreign_ , and definitely out of character for someone as arrogant and selfish as Atsumu. 

“That’s not true,” you argue, but your voice doesn’t quite carry the conviction you want your words to have. 

He scoffs. “What do you say, then?”

The easiest, most obvious answer is definitely, “No.” 

Yet… you can’t bring yourself to do it—to utter that one syllable that would make it easier for the both of you to just move on from this and laugh about it a few months later. Your throat constricts at the lingering rejection lodged between your teeth, and _god_ , did Osamu feel this way when he turned you down? You hope not. 

Then it dawns on you: you can’t reject him. Because...because what will become of your friendship now that Atsumu has laid it on the table that he’s in love with you? Accepting the fact that your friendship with one of the twins isn’t going to be the same was already difficult in itself, what more if you had to shoulder the burden of jeopardizing the other? 

You let yourself mull over it for a few seconds more. 

For what it’s worth, no matter how much of a pompous asshole he can be, you love Atsumu. You love him, and you can’t really picture your life without him, but _not like that_. 

But how are you supposed to reconcile your feelings about the matter when he looks so...angry with himself? You’re familiar with the bitter taste of unrequited love, and you’ll be damned if you had to condemn someone else to the same fate. 

(A tinier, more selfish part of you whispers, _Dating Atsumu wouldn’t be too far off from dating Osamu, right? The twins are practically the same person anyway. You can always just pretend he’s Osamu and_ —no. You’re not going to allow yourself to think like that. It’s _unfair_. Not only for you but for Atsumu as well.) 

The next thing you know, you find yourself stepping a reluctant foot forward, and then another until you could feel the heat permeating from his still sweaty clothes. Atsumu stares at you with a mix of shock and what you think is dread, but before he could open his mouth to dish out some cheap attempt to push you away, you give him your answer.

“‘Tsumu.” You feel like you’re committing a crime with the way the nickname tumbles from your lips so casually. Nonetheless, you meet his eyes when you say, “I...don’t feel the same way.” 

“Doesn’t take a genius ta figure _that_ out,” he grumbles before briskly stalking off towards the exit, shoulders squared with the implication that he heard what he needed to hear, and—

“I’m not done yet!” 

Atsumu stops dead in his tracks, standing in the middle of the empty gymnasium before throwing a rueful look over his shoulder. The desolation that’s written on his face lances through your heart and you almost choke on the rest of what you wanted to say. 

“Well?” he rasps. 

One second passes, and then two. You forcefully tame the thundering in your chest, hoping your voice doesn't falter when you tell him—

“I don’t feel the same way but… I think you can make me change my mind.”


	2. Chapter 2

The previous year’s third years, you know, will always be your favorite upperclassmen since you started managing the volleyball team. Kita, with his habits like fine-tuned clockwork, Aran’s fatherly treatment, Oumimi’s mild and reassuring presence, and even Akagi’s mischievous antics—you miss all of them terribly, and so do the rest of the boys they left in the current roster. 

But one of the four has always been closer to you than the rest, given that he practically grew up with you and the twins. Even if he set off to study in Tokyo for college, Aran made sure to keep in touch with you and everyone else in Hyogo and, to your surprise, he still manages to squeeze in a weekly phone call with you in the midst of his busy schedule. 

You don’t discuss any pressing matters, really. He mostly only calls to check in on the team. (“How’s Gin doing as the new captain?”, “Did the twins master that freak quick from Karasuno already?”, “Suna better not be slacking off again.”) And the topics don’t usually deviate otherwise. However, tonight’s conversation turns out a little more...differently.

“He _what_?”

Aran’s voice harbors one part concern and two parts amusement, which you somewhat anticipated as you clumsily typed out his name in your contacts list. Your throat bobs as you swallow the antsy sensation crowding in your chest and you let a few moments pass by in silence before you find your voice again. 

“Yeah,” you say dryly. “The king of assholes, Miya Atsumu, confessed his love for me.” 

“When did _that_ happen?” 

“Just after practice ended earlier today…” 

The other line falls silent for about three stuttering heartbeats until Aran lets out a contemplative noise, followed by the breathy laugh that you knew he was trying to suppress. “About time that idiot made a move.” 

“A-Are you saying you _knew_?” is what you sputter out in reply. Your hands are getting clammier by the minute, and the new-found knowledge of Aran’s prior awareness about all of this certainly doesn’t cater to your peace of mind. 

You hear some shuffling at his end, followed by the sound of rustling sheets. “I personally think that if you weren’t as enamored with his brother, you might have realized that Atsumu was already wearing his heart on his sleeve.”

“Huh?” The confusion underlining your tone was anything but ingenuine. “Wearing his heart on his…? When the hell did Atsumu acquire the inclination to be _that_ honest with his feelings?”

Aran chuckles softly. “In a way, he always has been, and I’m pretty sure you know that, too.” 

A frustrated whine escapes you but the sound is muffled by a Pusheen plush you pressed against your face. Aran lets you unload the weight off your chest via screaming into a stuffed cat for as long as necessary, and when you’re done, you tell him, “Haitoldhimyea.” 

“What did you say?” 

Clearing your throat, you discard the plush at the foot of your bed to breathe in deeply. “I told him yes.” 

Another pause. “But don’t you like Osamu though?” 

“T-That’s different!” you retaliate a little too quickly, face burning with embarrassment. “I know Osamu’s never really going to see me like that and… I just—I just couldn’t stand the idea of fucking up my friendship with Atsumu, too. I’m sure that we won’t come out unscathed if I rejected him.”

“And what makes you think things would be easier even if you accept his feelings?” 

An untimely sigh tears its way from your lips as you let yourself fall onto your bed, draping an arm over your forehead. You wedge your phone between your ear and shoulder to the sound of Aran pointedly laughing at your dilemma. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” he continues. “I think it’s good that you gave him a chance. How will you know whether or not you like something without giving it a shot, right?” 

“But?” you ask expectantly.

“What do you mean, _but_?” 

Rolling your eyes you turn over to your side, wiggling into your comforter. “Aran, there’s always a but when it comes to you.” 

This time, he’s the one who sighs. “I really meant to end my advice column on a lighter note, but if you insist.”

“So, what’s the _but_ factor?” 

“ _But_ ,” he emphasizes, “you need to be careful.”

“With what exactly?” 

“With how you’re going to deal with all of this,” Aran says. “You agreed to go out with him, so you’re practically dating now. And your sentiment is noble, I’ll give you that, but more often than not, things like this ultimately end in heartbreak.” His words are stern and you almost shudder at the notion he’s trying to implicate. “Trying to return someone else’s feelings is a lot messier than rejecting them from the start. I don’t know why you thought it was a good idea to make that gamble, but since you’re already there, the best I can do is guide you.”

You snort. “Are you perhaps speaking from experience?” 

“Who knows,” Aran says with a tone of finality, and you make a mental note to badger him about it when he comes home for Christmas. “Look, I have to go. Don’t be stupid, and do avoid breaking each other’s hearts, okay?” 

“I wouldn’t count on it,” you sigh wistfully.

* * *

Becoming Atsumu’s girlfriend would change everything—at least, that’s what you initially assumed.

It’s such a big leap after all. Yesterday you were just a childhood friend that was in love with his brother and now you were his love interest. Thinking that everything would pace out as they usually did is nearly impossible.

That’s the exact thought that kept you tossing and turning during the previous night. It’s the same thought that you wake up to the next morning, groggy and restless from the little sleep you acquired. 

When the twins arrive at your doorstep in time for your usual walks to school, however, you’re met with an air of familiarity that you find disconcerting. Osamu greets you with a polite, “Good morning,” while Atsumu berates how long it took you to answer the door. 

The three of you head to Inarizaki at a leisurely pace, and you find yourself in the middle of another one of their untimely banters. The twins are arguing about which actor played Spiderman better, but you’re too caught up in the fact that Atsumu was acting as if nothing has changed to pitch in your input. Did he even tell his brother what happened last night? 

“You okay?” Osamu queries and you couldn’t help but loathe yourself for the way your heart still stutters at his subtle concern.

You spare him a dry laugh. “Yeah. It’s nothing.” 

The silver haired decides to leave it at that, but somehow, you don’t miss the way Atsumu watches you from the corner of his eye until you all arrived at school.

* * *

“Hey, lemme copy your English assignment,” is what the blond twin says once the two of you settle in your adjacent desks. 

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Why didn’t you bum the answers off Osamu instead?” 

“He didn’t do ‘em either.” 

A few moments of you staring at him in disbelief pass by before you flatly tell him, “Not my problem.”

“C’mon,” he whines. “ _Please_? I won’t copy anything from you ever again if you let me have this pass.” 

“You say that every time I let you copy my homework.” 

“Yeah, and every time I ask, you end up helpin’ me out anyway! So why don’t we cut this conversation short and get to the part where you lend me your notebook so we can all have a peaceful morning?” It’s infuriating how Atsumu’s words actually make sense, and it has you cursing him under your breath as you fished out your English notebook from your bag. 

“You owe me one,” you huff as he snatches it from your hands. 

“I’m sure I owe you more than just one, but you never really come to collect,” Atsumu says a matter-of-factly as he scribbles on his notebook. “Thank you for the extended deadline for my sea of debt, ma’am.” 

“Don’t mention it,” comes your biting retort. 

It only takes one conversation with Atsumu to make you forget about how awkward you assumed things would turn out and you don’t even realize it.

* * *

The days pass by a little too quickly and it’s Friday again. Atsumu still hasn’t uttered a word about your supposed dating status, and you wonder if you only imagined his confession. 

When practice ends, Osamu heads home earlier than both of you, and Atsumu insists that he help out with cleaning up. This catches you by surprise because he never once offered his assistance in the past. Usually, the twins would wait for you to finish by the gates, and you didn’t particularly mind tidying up alone, since you’re more than capable of carrying out the task singlehandedly. 

But you have to admit, two gets the job done faster than one. You’re just about finished filing inventory and it hasn’t even been twenty minutes since Ginjima adjourned today’s practice. 

“There’s a new okonomiyaki shop that just opened up across the street,” Atsumu chimes in when he joins you in the storage room, both your school bag and his gym bag slung across each of his shoulders. “Suna said it was subpar but worth trying.” 

You heft an eyebrow at him. “Your treat?” 

He shrugs. “Why not?” 

* * *

True to Suna’s word, the term ‘subpar but worth trying’ does the shop enough justice. The pancake is a little too doughy for your liking, but they offered octopus on the menu, which you don’t frequently see in a lot of shops. You also aren’t a fan of excessive mayonnaise, but the tangy okonomiyaki sauce managed to even out the strong flavor. Oh, and their bonito flakes don’t chip as easily as they do in the places you’ve been to before. 

Although the food isn’t exactly the highlight of your experience. 

“Atsumu!” you yell. “Stop swiping my bonito, you jerk.” 

He grins from ear to ear as he pinches some flakes off your pancake with his bare fingers, bringing them to his mouth. “Ain’t my fault they’re too good.” 

“You have your own!” you remind, gesturing none too discreetly at the untouched okonomiyaki in front of him. 

Atsumu casts it an uninterested stare before he retrieves his chopsticks to snag a portion of your own pancake from the stove, chewing thoughtfully to spite you. Your eye twitches as he revels in your irritation, but you can’t really call him out for his impudence when he agreed to pay for everything. 

“You two enjoying?” 

You turn to face Katsura, the chef behind the stove, and you nod profusely at his inquiry. “It’s really good, but I bet I’d enjoy it even more if _someone_ started eating their own okonomiyaki instead of weaseling bites from mine.” 

“Huh? I wonder who that could be.” Your companion takes yet another chunk from your pancake and shovels it into his mouth before you could utter a protest. 

“War,” you say, gritting your teeth. “This means _war_.” 

The amused crinkle in Atsumu’s eyes tells you that he’s all too eager to take you up on that challenge. He looks as if he’s about to say some flippant remark, but you exact your revenge on him by snagging half of the untouched okonomiyaki still sizzling on the stove in front of him. When you successfully cram the pancake in your mouth (albeit with difficulty) you let out a muffled but triumphant noise.

Atsumu stares at you tentatively for a moment before snickering. “You look stupid.” 

“Phayback ishn’t shtoopid!” 

“Says the idiot that has sauce drippin' from her mouth.” He swipes a few napkins from the dispenser to his right and wipes off the evidence of your attempt at riling him up. “You really _are_ like a kid. How’d ya end up being the team’s manager again?” 

You chew through the huge chunk of okonomiyaki as you affix a glare on him, one hand immediately going on his shoulder where you squeeze a pressure point that never fails to make him say—

“Ow, ow ow, ow, _ow_! Uncle! Uncle!” Atsumu writhes in his seat, attempting to disengage himself from your grasp, but your hold on him saps the strength in his effort. 

You manage to swallow the mush in your mouth after a while and, casting your mercy upon him, you surrender the iron grip you have on Atsumu’s shoulder who immediately goes limp against the counter. 

“Drama queen,” you scoff. 

The sound of Katsura’s warm laughter cuts through the air, and a string of apologies abruptly spills from your lips at your display of idiocy. Then, as if on cue, Atsumu regains his composure and wordlessly pays for the food

“What say you to a discount next time you kids drop by?” Katsura grins. “All this time I thought Inarizaki only had them prim and proper students. Hell if I knew that kids from that ol’ school across the street had a little spunk to ‘em.” 

You consider his words for a moment, but then you recall the everyday life you live with the stupidest volleyball team ever to exist in Japan and your face sours. “I wouldn’t agree with the prim and proper part, but what person in the right mind would turn down a discount?”

To your side, Atsumu coughs. “Like _you’re_ paying.” 

“Shut it, ‘Tsumu.” 

* * *

As a peace offering, he agrees to make a detour to a nearby convenience store to grab one of those fruity popsicles you’ve been eating since you were children.

“I don’t get why you like those so much," Atsumu sighs when you toss the finished popsicle into a bin. "If you think of it, that’s just flavored water." 

“ _Frozen_ flavored water,” you correct. “I’ve gotta hand it to you though. You’re feeling awfully generous today, aren’t you?”

He makes a noncommittal noise as he jams his hands in the pockets of his sweats. “Well, I’ve done some thinkin' and came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t hurt ta indulge my girlfriend every once in a while.” 

The smile that graces his face looks so uncharacteristically kind that your heart nearly leaps into your throat when the air around you crackles a bit differently than it had seconds ago. Right. You’re his girlfriend. He’s your boyfriend. You’re _dating_.

You must have made some kind of face as you’re stunned into silence because Atsumu snorts out an awkward sounding laugh, the set of his jaw tightening slightly. 

“You don’t have to look so—I don’t know, surprised?” He sighs, eyes wandering up to the vast, starlit sky. “At least _act_ like that was a good first date.”

First...date? Your mouth hangs agape at his proclamation. You _know_ the way you’re reacting is making him uncomfortable because Atsumu has a bad habit of rolling his shoulders when he’s tense and that’s exactly what he’s doing right now—

“Come to think of it, no.” He stops walking and you halt alongside him. The two of you are standing beneath a bright street lamp, and the illumination only serves to make the frustration flashing across his face too evident for you to bear. “I think I’ll take your hesitation as is. It’s better than you lying to my face right? ‘Sides, you already gave me a shot. It’s my job to impress ya. I can’t believe I’m already whining on my first try.” He chuckles softly. “Sorry I rambled. I-I honestly dunno how I can make you look at me the way you look at ‘Samu, and— _fuck_. I’m not this bad at talking to girls I fuckin’ swear—”

“I had fun.” 

He blinks, lips parted in surprise. But before he could say anything in return, you manage a soft smile. “I had fun on our first date, Atsumu...even if you kept swiping my pancake." 

And it was the truth. You can’t really picture yourself tolerating anyone else stealing your food aside from Atsumu. He has an annoying charm that lets him get away with every troublesome idea that pops into his head, and you can’t really say you’re immune to it. 

Becoming his girlfriend, as you realized over the past few days, doesn’t really change a lot of things like you thought it would.

He’s still the same, arrogant troublemaker that you’ve never really had any problem cleaning up after. He still copies answers off your homework even if you know he’s smart enough to get it done on his own. He still likes riling you up, testing the limits of your patience until you resort to getting physical with him. Yet somehow, things seem a bit more pleasant than they were before.

You can’t quite wrap your head around why it’s like that, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. 

“So are we going to stare at each other until morning or are you going to walk me home?” you ask teasingly when it takes him a while to snap out of it.

Just like that, the despondency on his face fades back into the usual smugness he flaunted around on a normal day. “I don’t remember you bein’ this demanding.” 

“Got a problem with it?” 

His mouth curves into a lopsided smile. “None at all.”


	3. Chapter 3

It takes about a month’s worth of spontaneous dates and endless teasing from Ginjima and the team before you finally start to realize what changed so subtly ever since you started going out with Atsumu. 

You first notice it when he manages to talk you into a proper date one fateful Saturday evening. 

It was different from the usual detours you took before going home from practice. Atsumu really went all out on this one; going as far as to reserve seats in one of the high-end restaurants in the city that required formal attire upon entry. Your mother was all-too eager to squeeze you into one of her evening gowns, dolling you up zealously since she was relieved that you finally decided to immerse yourself in the dating scene at such a fruitful age. 

You’ve been to formal events before—Inarizaki had an annual ball, after all—but Atsumu never once pitched in an effort to dress accordingly for the occasion. He’d often show up in an atrocious flannel and a pair of ratty jeans all because he thinks that suits are an unnecessary luxury. But when he came to pick you up from your house that evening, you almost didn’t recognize him. 

His blond hair was slicked back, giving his hairstyle a little more of a professional air to it. He donned a black three-piece suit that looked like it was tailored to specifically fit him in all the right places, and the black bow tie made his get-up come together even more nicely. You teased him for his uncalled for effort, and a mischievous smile nearly split his face in half. 

But as the two of you wait for the bill once the lavish dinner is over, Atsumu reaches for your hand across the table when you become distracted by the lights that winked at you from the bustling skyline below. The contact between your skin is barely there, like he was hesitating, and when your gaze latches back onto him, you’re met with eyes like molten gold.

Compared to the Atsumu who never took the concept of relationships seriously, the starry-eyed boy sitting across you is a completely different person. 

When you have to stay behind after practice, he still insists on walking you home. When deliberating about where you should eat, he always makes you have the final say. Wherever you went, he’s always the one paying. 

And even if those seemingly menial things have already happened in the past, Atsumu never voiced out a single complaint—whereas before, he always seemed to have a stick up his ass every time he was “forced” to do something nice for you. 

There’s something about how natural that change of attitude from him settles into your everyday life that made him look a little more mature in your eyes than when you were just friends. It made you realize that even Atsumu—arrogant, tactless, too-cunning-for-his-own-good Atsumu—is capable of changing, and of growing up. (And you’re all too aware that it’s because of his feelings for you that he has.) 

The past few weeks have been fantastic in his company. He’s known you forever, and he knows exactly how to make you have a good time. But despite feeling the most carefree you’ve been in _years_ , your feelings for him haven’t changed one bit.

Whenever you look at Atsumu, you always try to reach into the depths of your heart in an attempt to bring forth any semblance of fondness for him. It should have been easier. He’s the spitting image of the boy you’re in love with after all. But making yourself fall for Atsumu, you think, is much, _much_ harder than doing so for anyone else. 

Maybe...maybe if he didn’t have the same chiseled face, or even the same thick lashes, perhaps the odds would have been kinder. Because every time you look at him and think that you’re ready to surrender yourself to his care, the fact that he’s not Osamu—will never _be_ Osamu—makes your stomach drop like a stone.

You hate it. You absolutely _hate_ it because Atsumu has been nothing short of patient with you. You’re certain he isn’t even aware of the shift in his attitude, which makes you all the more guilty. But it’s difficult to ignore that your heart is still so full of Osamu that you’re convinced that you have no room left for him.

You flash him a wary smile, promptly deciding to speak out your feelings then and there. “A-Atsumu—”

“You don’t have to say it.” 

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, wide-eyed. “What?” 

“I know you still ain’t feelin’ the same way.” He gives you a wobbly smile as he thoughtlessly swipes his thumb over your fingers. “And I just want ya to know that I don’t really mind.” 

“B-But…” Your voice trails off for a moment; the feeling of him stroking your hand is quite distracting. “I don’t want to be leading you on, ‘Tsumu.”

“Tell me, what part of this is leading me on?” 

He lets you mull over it for a minute but you don’t say anything in response. Atsumu then casts you an expectant look, and his expression looks so curiously innocent that it makes you feel even worse. 

“I don’t want to lie to you,” you tell him dryly instead. “You don’t deserve this. I mean, there’s lots of girls that fawn over you at school. Why would you choose to suffer when you could just—”

“Whoa,” he interjects, raising his hands in a halting gesture. “Slow down, would ya? You’re worse than Gin when he gets too fired up in a match.” 

“I’m just stating facts here!” Your bottom lip swells into a pout. 

He laughs breathlessly, that soft smile of his never receding. “Then tell me, is it a fact that you were lying to me every time I asked if ya had a great time on our dates?” 

The question makes an offended look seize your features. “ _No!_ I really had a good time whenever you asked me out. You’re fun to be with, you know…” you say a little too eagerly at first, but your voice shrinks progressively with each word. 

“So I’ve been told.” He smirks. “If that’s the case, then what exactly were you lying to me about, then? Is it the part where you said I could change your mind?” 

“Atsumu,” you all but whine. “You know that’s not it either. I just—ugh!” Deciding to give up on coherent conversation, you let your head fall onto the satin tablecloth, cheek pressed against the fine material. 

“Hey,” Atsumu calls out once, but you refuse to move an inch. He utters your name the second time, and that almost makes you look up but the sheer embarrassment weighs you down, still. 

However, when he says, “Can you look at me? Please?” the words hold such a sincere ring to them that you couldn’t help but do so. Your hair fringes your face once you allow yourself to stare at him and Atsumu tucks it back in your ears, painting your cheeks a rosy hue. 

“You’re the one who told me that I could change your mind, right?” he inquires, to which you respond with a minimal nod of your head. “Then let me—let me convince you that I’m worth the chance you gave me... Unless ya regret giving me that chance.” Atsumu quirks an eyebrow at you, and you shake your head a little too forcefully. 

“No, of course not,” you say in a pleading tone. “But the reason why I feel so horrible about this set-up is ‘cause I see the way you look at me sometimes. I feel bad because I can’t reciprocate anything you give me. I-I feel like I’m just using you…and I’m kind of beginning to hate myself for it.” 

Your confession warrants yet another lengthy pause in your conversation. (There have been too many in the span of a few minutes.) But instead of the defeated look you expected him to have, Atsumu merely laughs and shakes his head. 

The way your name tumbles from his lips the next moment is awfully endearing, and it makes your heart pang ever-so slightly. Atsumu is a bit bolder this time—taking both of your hands in his much larger ones once more. His touch is gentle; careful in a way like he’s handling spun glass. But despite the soft caress of his skin on yours, his eyes are lit with what you think is thoughtful amusement. 

“I’m grateful for your concern,” he tells you, but you shoot him a dubious look. “ _Really_ , I am!” 

When your skepticism doesn’t falter, he swallows thickly— _finally_ , some semblance of nervousness slipping through his collected façade—before speaking up once again. “Look, I know for one that I’m a coward when it comes ta these things. I don’t like pitching in more effort than I have to when there’s no certainty that I’ll be gettin’ what I want in the end.” 

“Yes, I’m aware,” you intone somberly. 

“But when you told me, yourself, that I could change your mind, well…” His voice trails off as his gaze wanders to your entwined fingers. “Let’s just say you made me grow a pair right then and there.”

Atsumu looks as if he still has more to say, but before he could utter the next word, the waiter finally drops by your table to hand Atsumu the bill. Your attempts at peeking at the grand total are intercepted by the boy in front of you, claiming that you “didn’t have to worry your pretty little head about it”. He then tells the waiter to keep the change, and promptly helps you up to your feet. 

“You in a hurry or something?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

In response, Atsumu takes a step closer, placing a hand on the crook of your neck, while he uses the other to tilt your chin up—making you look into his eyes. You emit an embarrassingly small squeak when he begins tracing idle shapes with his thumb. 

“It’s not like you asked me to change your mind as quickly as I can,” he says in an almost intimate whisper. “And it’s not like you told me to get to work making you fall for me either. This... this takes time.” 

The look he imparts instils you with a sense of security that you can’t quite explain. It reassures you and soothes your racing mind that’s garbled with worries and scruples. “I want you to know that even if I ain’t the guy with the lengthiest patience out there, I’m willing ta make some...adjustments. For you.” 

“Adjustments,” you parrot for a moment before bursting into a fit of chuckles.

“Oi, oi, oi!” Atsumu reprimands, face flushing red at your unhinged reaction as he crosses his arms. “I fuckin’ rehearsed that speech in the mirror dozens o’ times and you’re just gonna laugh in my face?” 

“I’m—sorry.” You wipe a lone tear escaping your eye, unable to suppress the small bouts of laughter left in your chest. “It’s just that... I wouldn’t call what you did for me ‘adjusting’?” 

He frowns. “Then what _would_ you call it?” 

_Character development,_ your mind echoes. But you don’t really plan on telling Atsumu that. 

“I dunno.” You shrug. “Guess you have to stick around for a while more to find out.” 

With a scoff, he rolls his eyes. “One second, you’re lookin’ like you’re gonna fuckin’ cry ‘cause you felt guilty and the next, you’re back to shitting on me like usual. You’re crazy, ya hear me? Why’d I even fall in lo—”

“Um, excuse me?” 

The two of you jerk your heads towards a waiter who’s eyeing the two of you with a concerned glance. He clears his throat and gestures vaguely to an elderly couple walking in your direction. “If you wouldn’t mind, the next customers who will be occupying this table have arrived. Might I escort you out?” 

You turn to Atsumu who’s already sticking his arm out in invitation, that grin of his not showing a speck of remorse for the hold-up. 

“ **Shall we go, my lady?** ” he asks in broken English, and the horribly posh accent that accompanies the words makes you realize that no one else could excite a laugh out of you the same way Atsumu (always) does. 

“ **I’m in your care,** ” you tell him just as atrociously.

The waiter heaves a tired sigh.


	4. Chapter 4

Practice rolls by as usual, but the drills Coach Kurosu is handing out to the boys are considerably more strenuous this time around. Once the ordeal comes to an end at six, most of Inarizaki's players clamor towards the gym's exit, the concept of showering at the bottom of their priorities. Getting home as soon as they could is a lingering itch on everyone's minds—yours, included. But alas, there's more to a manager's duties than simply tossing a water bottle or a face towel should any of the boys need either. 

You're in the middle of finalizing your progress reports for one of the newly recruited first years when Osamu interrupts by calling out your name. 

“Hey,” you begin, brows raised at his lingering presence. “Do you need anything, ‘Samu?”

You can tell that he's discreetly trying to mask his fatigue, but the shuddering breaths he lets out gives him away. A sheen of sweat glistens on his brow as placid eyes affix themselves on your seated form by the bleachers. “Do you have any bandages?” he asks, voice coming out strained. 

Instinctively, you sweep your gaze across the boy in front of you. Osamu doesn't seem to have any bruising anywhere, and if he had a limp, you would have noticed the way he walked earlier (even if you _were_ occupied by your current task). But then your eyes flicker towards his right hand twitching by his side—index finger slightly swollen. Your mouth downturns into a grimace.

“'Tsumu tossed to me at a pretty difficult spot earlier.” Osamu sighs, hiding the injury behind his back. “I thought it was nothing to worry about, but I don't wanna take my chances.”

You exhale a long breath through your nose before setting aside your clipboard, beckoning Osamu to come closer. The wing spiker obliges and extends his hand so you could assess the swelling. You take it in your own, reminding yourself to be delicate with your fingers as not to inflame it even further. Thankfully, the swelling doesn't seem too severe, since Osamu had the foresight to approach you about it before it got worse. But you're probably going to have to splint his fingers and make him sit out the next practice.

“Oi, Gin! Do we have some ice in the storage room?” you yell over your shoulder, gaze immediately at Ginjima, who's in idle conversation with Atsumu at the far end of the gym. You don't miss the way your boyfriend raises an eyebrow at you, but you're too preoccupied with Osamu's injury to give his lingering stare a second thought.

“Yeah. I'm pretty sure no one's even touched the freezer since Suna got sprained,” Ginjima affirms before taking another sip from his water bottle. 

“Why do we even have a freezer inside our storage room?” Suna implores. “Is that where our tuition goes? I just want to know.”

Kosaku snickers as he tosses a volleyball into the ball cart. “This damn school uses up our budget for the weirdest things. We could'a had air conditioning in the gym instead. Or new track jackets!”

As the rest of the third years that remained offer up their inputs about alternative allotments for the club's monthly budget, you haul Osamu off to treat him as soon as possible. The door to the storage room creaks on its hinges when you open it. Then, you feel around the walls for a moment for the light switch, letting out a triumphant noise once you find what you're looking for.

When the fluorescent bulb hanging from the ceiling crackles to life, your eyes immediately land on a freezer that's just as big as the ones you'd find at convenience stores—its mechanical hum a telltale sign that it's plugged in.

You tread further inside as Osamu closes the door, tailing closely behind as you retrieve an empty ice pack and the first aid kit from one of the shelves lining the bleak wall. A whiff of icy air scatters in the space in front of you when you open up the freezer where a couple of bags full of ice lay unused inside. The frost that clung to the packaging attests to the fact that injuries, thankfully, aren't that common with the boys. Except maybe for the occasional risky play from the team's infuriating setter that forces his spikers into difficult spots.

As you quietly fill the ice pack, you ignore the cold searing your fingertips before handing it to Osamu. He wordlessly takes it from your hands and proceeds to ice his swollen finger, obviously knowing the protocol. That's how you find yourself sitting in five minutes' worth of ear-splitting silence with your boyfriend's twin brother.

This certainly isn't the first time you've been alone in a room before, and you're not that kind of person who gets all fidgety when placed in such a situation. But there's an unsettling feel that hangs in the air that you're sure wasn’t there before.

Now that you think of it, it's been a while since you've been alone with Osamu, since you devoted your time to either catching up with schoolwork, filing every players' stats properly, or going on dates with his brother. He hasn't explicitly spoken about the fact that you're dating Atsumu, but you're certain that he knows. Even though he tends to keep to himself for the most part, he wouldn't excuse himself from spending time with you and Atsumu so often if he didn't.

The weight of Osamu's gaze on you is nothing you aren't accustomed to. You grew up with him, and you knew of his habits just as well as you do Atsumu's. While his brother would have tried to engage you in pointless conversation to fill the silence, Osamu opts to observe with curious patience. You just hope that he isn't keen enough to see through your mask of neutrality. 

If it were any other girl, she would have swooned at the notion of being able to be up close and personal with one of the Miya twins. Their reputation goes beyond the volleyball court, and you're more aware of this than anyone else. But even if you don't particularly feel the sizzle of excitement that those who didn't know either Osamu or Atsumu personally, an entirely different sensation seizes you every time you're around the former.

It's been about five weeks since you agreed to go out with Atsumu, and the developments in your relationship, per se, far exceeded your prior expectations. You figured that he'd succumb to the uncertainty of the entire arrangement, but the stubborn boy just kept persisting like a plant breaking through concrete. There have been considerable changes to Atsumu's behavior that you hadn't imagined would happen so soon. You're so proud of him that you couldn't help but feel that familiar flare of guilt when you realize how your heart still churns in your ribcage in an entirely different manner whenever you're alone with Osamu like this.

“Make sure to splint that when you get home,” you blurt out to prevent those intrusive thoughts from festering any further. 

Osamu tilts his head slightly, hefting an eyebrow at the first aid kit you brought out earlier. “You're not going to do it?”

Your face warms at the realization that oh, _right_. You had to patch him up, yourself. “Y-yeah. Sorry. I was a little distracted.”

He makes a noise in understanding before handing back the ice pack to you. The wing spiker flexes his fingers one by one, wincing a little, but doesn't betray any other reaction besides that.

You swallow thickly when he puts out his hand closer to you, carefully getting to work with splinting his middle finger to his index finger to immobilize it. As you proceed to bandage the injury, that off-putting sensation in the atmosphere only persists. It's the indicative kind of air where it seems like Osamu wants to tell you something. 

In your contemplation, you hear him take a sharp breath through his nose, and you realize a little late that you wrung the bandage too tightly around the splint. You mutter a half-hearted apology, loosening the strip to inspire more circulation in his fingers. Osamu visibly relaxes until you finish your handiwork.

“So,” he begins with that trademark placidity of his, “you and 'Tsumu, huh?”

There it is. After five weeks, he finally speaks up. Your heart swells at the acknowledgement but a derogatory voice at the back of your head accuses you of only going along with dating Atsumu because you wanted to see how Osamu would react.

 _You don't really care about how Atsumu feels_ , it hisses, and you try your best to tune it out and ignore it completely because that _isn't true_. Of course you care about Atsumu's feelings! You wouldn't have entertained him in the first place if you didn't...right?

“Yeah.” You sound unsure. Why do you sound unsure?

Osamu nods minutely, amber eyes studying you with rapt attention. “Didn't know ya had the hots for him. Never would'a been able to tell if Gin hadn't asked what I thought 'bout it, honestly.”

The confession makes your blood run cold. “What?”

“It really ain't like me to stick my nose where it doesn't belong,” he says indifferently with a shrug. 

“T-Then what about all those times you had to go ahead before us? Why'd you kept declining every time we asked you to hang out?” You didn't mean to put that much accusatory snark in the tone of your voice, but your mouth just keeps on _running_. “Don't tell me you didn't have even the _slightest_ idea that I was going out with your twin brother!”

The confusion that dances across his face is entirely warranted, you think with disappointment. “I really don't understand why you're this bothered by—”

“I am not _bothered_!” you yell, lip quivering in frustration. 

The two of you lapse into another bout of uncomfortable silence as Osamu stares at you wide-eyed. But unlike you, he collects himself almost immediately, confusion morphing into something more apologetic. He sighs, leaning against the shelf behind him before saying:

“I'm seeing someone.”

Blood roars in your ears at his words as you stare at him vacantly. Your chest constricts and your breathing becomes heavier in an effort to stave off the emotions that are threatening to swallow you whole. “Oh, that's great!” is what a normal person would say when one of their best, childhood friends tells them that they're seeing someone. But you've long blurred out the fine line that separated platonic feelings and romance with Osamu, and the first thing your instincts told you to do is to bail; to run as far as you could from him so you could let yourself fall apart where he couldn't see—

“Hey,” Osamu intones, a crease of concern forming on his brow. "(Name), you alright?”

Your breath catches in your throat, mouth going dry as a single tear slides across your cheeks. Osamu steps forward and his bandaged hand moves to cup your face. You still at the contact, mostly caught off guard with the way the cold sensation from the ice pack lingered on the bandages rather than the gesture itself. 

The perturbed look in his eye is reminiscent of all the times Atsumu made you cry as a child, and Osamu comforted you no matter how trivial the reason was behind your tears. Too tenderly for you to bear, he sweeps his thumb across your skin, wiping away the moisture from your lashes. 

You sniffle. “W-What are you—”

The question is cut short when the familiar sound of hinges creaking scrapes at your ears. Emerging from the door is Atsumu, his gym bag already slung across one shoulder as he pokes his head inside the storage room. When his mind registers the scene before him, you catch a glimpse of the shock on his face before he masks it with faux curiosity. 

“I was wonderin' what the holdup was.” Atsumu's laughter is hollow, but there's pain in his eyes, clear as day. 

Without thinking about what your prior position could have suggested in Atsumu's eyes, you pry yourself away from Osamu's grasp, bolting through the door without a moment's delay. 

You can hear Osamu calling out your name from behind, but you pointedly ignore him, zipping past Ginjima who's apparently waiting for you to finish patching up Osamu, as well. You run into the school gardens just beside the gymnasium, the evening breeze cutting sharply across your face as you let sob after sob tear through your lips. 

You stop dead in your tracks once you reach the edge of the garden that's right by the riverside. Tall willow trees lined the fence that marked Inarizaki's boundaries and you take refuge beneath the nearest one, its leaves nearly touching the grass beneath your feet. The leaves sway along with the soft wind that blows past the garden, the sound of all the trees moving in sync drowning out your hiccups as you forcibly attempt to compose yourself. 

Someone yelling your name breaks through the sounds of nature around you, but this time it isn't Osamu. You know it isn't him because this voice in particular is already turning into a comforting sound the longer you spend time with him.

Atsumu always had keen eyesight, so it doesn't come as a surprise when he spots which tree you've been hiding under in no time. He pulls back the curtain of leaves, ducking underneath the canopy and you didn't dare take a look at his face. 

The waterworks in your eyes have ceased and you can afford to think a little more rationally now. With that in mind, the fact that he just saw you in a very compromising position with Osamu hit you like a ton of bricks. If he never showed any semblance of hesitation after you gave him a chance, you're almost too certain that he's definitely going to give up on you now.

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for the _I hate yous_ , the _you fuckin' played mes_ , and all the deplorable things Atsumu has earned the right to tell you. 

But they never come.

Instead, he lets his bag fall onto the grass. Atsumu nearly topples you over when he throws his arms around you, encasing you in one of the tightest hugs he's ever given you thus far. His fingers rake through your hair as he holds your head against his shoulder, your face resting in the crook of his neck. He hugs you like he's afraid, like you’re slipping away, which throws you in another haze of confusion. Why isn't he yelling at you? Why isn't he hating you for what you did? 

But instead of wondering why he's doing what he's doing, you let yourself surrender to his embrace; arms going around his toned form as your fingers gripped his shirt. 

“I'm still in love with him,” you confess, voice sounding all kinds of broken.

Atsumu tenses at the proclamation, but you figure that, somehow, both of you were already conscious of that. His grip eases and he releases you from his grasp. You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, and the metallic taste that fills your mouth only worsens the bitterness that's already coating your tongue.

Noticing your distress, he draws a shaky breath, resting his forehead against yours as he runs his fingers across your shoulders in an attempt to calm you down—and it _does_ calm you down. It works because it's Atsumu who does so and you didn't really trust your emotions with anyone else but him.

“I know,” he says with a kind of resignation that shouldn't even be there.

He deserves more. You _know_ he does, but there are times like this when you can’t help but be a little selfish. You desperately want to love him the same way he loves you—patiently and without expectation—but pretending that you don't feel a thing for his brother is harder than it sounds. Aran's advice over that one phone call weeks ago makes sense all of a sudden.

Maybe you shouldn't have made this gamble in the first place after all.

But when Atsumu walks you home that night, he kisses your cheek before heading back to his own house. It's a gesture that's foreign to you—he's never done that. And given his lack of outward embarrassment or something similar, he probably didn't even realize the nuances of what that innocent kiss could imply. 

The spot where his lips touched your skin burns with the memory of the contact, and you're kept up late that evening not with the earlier encounter with Osamu, but because of that silly little kiss that shouldn't mean anything more than a parting gesture. 

Then it clicks to you. 

You're still in love with Osamu...but you're sure that the way you feel about Atsumu isn't the same as the way you felt about him when he first confessed. Is it even possible to have romantic feelings for two people? Twins, nonetheless? 

But before you could come up with an answer yourself, you've already fallen into the clutches of slumber.

* * *

**_You [5:47 A.M.]_ **

Morning, tsumu. 

**_Atsumu [6:10 A.M]_ **

ure up early. ya feelin better?

**_You [6:10 A.M]_ **

Yeah. Sorry abt last night. You up for breakfast? 

**_Atsumu [6:11 A.M.]_ **

....

**_Atsumu [6:11 A.M.]_ **

who r u nd whatd u do to my gf that barely wants to spend time w me

**_You [6:12 A.M.]_ **

Quit being an ass >:( I like spending time w you

**_Atsumu [6:15 A.M.]_ **

are my charms finally working on u ? 

**_Atsumu [6:15 A.M.]_ **

about damn time lol

**_You [6:16 A.M.]_ **

Ill drop by your house in five

**_Atsumu [6:16 A.M.]_ **

awwww ure even comin ta pick me up? sweet <3

**_You [6:16 A.M.]_ **

Can't have my boyfriend doing all the work, right?

**_Atsumu [6:17 A.M.]_ **

...i stg u hit ur head somewhere. r u okay ? 

**_You [6:21 A.M.]_ **

Im already here do you want breakfast or not

**_Atsumu [6:22 A.M.]_ **

alright alright JEEZ im comin


	5. Chapter 5

One thing that those who know Miya Atsumu often say about him is that he has a way with words. 

With how popular he is with girls, everyone knows Atsumu has a cunning personality and silver tongue—it's one of the stark differences that helps other people distinguish him from Osamu. While he certainly hasn't done anything severe enough for him to be dubbed as a playboy, Atsumu's charm is the kind that makes your knees weak and sets your heart aflutter. You've witnessed countless instances where students (and even some faculty members) swoon even at the most minimal exchange with him. 

Word about your relationship doesn't circulate as quickly as gossip usually does in Inarizaki, since you and Atsumu both agreed to keep it under the radar for a while. But even when half the school becomes aware that the volleyball team's charming setter is currently dating his manager (courtesy of ever-talkative Ginjima), Atsumu's prior reputation remains and hangs above everything else there is to know about him. 

At first, you didn't really pay it any mind. You've been tolerating your friends' popularity among the girls in all of the schools you've been attending since you were kids. Though it gets overbearing at times, both Atsumu and Osamu always manage to keep their admirers in check. 

But when Atsumu opens his locker to store his shoes when you arrive at school, a bright pink envelope falls out. He manages to catch it before it drifts to the floor, and, with curiosity brimming in his golden eyes, he turns it over on the other side—only to see that it's been sealed with a red, heart-shaped sticker. 

"I didn't know love letters were still a thing," quips Osamu to your side, slipping on his indoor shoes. 

You visibly startle at the sound of his voice since he hasn't said a word during the entirety of your walk to school. The tension from the previous Friday's events is yet to disperse, instilling you with the same kind of awkwardness that emerged when Osamu rejected your feelings. Thankfully, he seems too distracted by the fact that his brother—your _boyfriend_ —just received a none-too-discreet love letter to notice your unease. 

Atsumu shrugs, carefully removing the sticker like he doesn't want to tear it. "Nothing beats the classics." 

"Excuse me?" The retort escapes you before you could even process it. 

He arches an eyebrow at your knee-jerk response, one side of his lip turning up into a sneer. "Oh, is that an objection I hear?" 

In lieu of an actual reply, you roll your eyes at his impudence, slamming the door to your locker harder than necessary. To add even more fuel to his suspicion, you proceeded to skulk off to your classroom without waiting for Atsumu to finish placing his shoes in his own locker.

Surprisingly, you don't particularly feel the need to set things straight either. Atsumu is old enough to do whatever he wishes with unsuspecting love letters he probably gets from some naive first years. He doesn't need your input on the matter because even if you're his girlfriend in title, you've barely done anything to warrant the right to be called as such.

However, you still couldn't help the way your fingers tighten around your pencil when you catch him diligently reading through the letter's contents in class—grinning like some love-struck idiot. Getting rid of the bothersome sensation in your chest, which you suspect is (read: _very mild_ ) murderous intent, is more tedious than it sounds, too.

But he doesn't have to know that, now does he?

* * *

"Does anybody know where Atsumu is?" 

You're in the middle of a conversation with the coach regarding the team's upcoming practice matches with a nearby community college when Ginjima cups his hands over his mouth to project his gravelly voice in the entirety of the gym. Rather annoyed with the interruption, you throw him a dirty look over your shoulder.

"Quit bein' so loud, Gin," Osamu groans, sharing the same sentiment. "We've been at this for three years and you're _still_ surprised 'Tsumu's late for practice?"

Ginjima makes a face at him. "Well if it hasn't occurred to ya, that dolt has always come on time ever since he and (Name) started datin'."

"And what about it?" is your biting response. 

"Whoa, can y'all calm down? Why's everyone on their damn periods all of a sudden."

"(Name)."

Coach Kurosu's stern voice reels you back into your previous agenda. Sputtering a quick apology, you proceed to fill him in about the venue that Kobe University's team picked for this weekend's game, but you still aren't able to tune out Suna's voice when he says:

"Someone from my class saw Atsumu heading up to the First Building's rooftop earlier. He's a handful but he doesn't seem like the delinquent type that'd hang around there. (Name) would beat his ass." 

"Oh, captain," implores Fukuzawa, a first year setter who's practically Atsumu's protégé. "I heard our class rep has somethin' to tell Miya-senpai in private. Maybe that's why he ain't here." 

"Hah? Atsumu's friendly to them girls but he never shows face whenever they say they wanna _tell him somethin’_ _in private_ , if ya catch my drift," Ginjima reiterates, folding his arms across his chest in contemplation.

"Kurosu-san," you breathe, interrupting yourself in front of the coach. "...May I please be excused for a moment?"

The older man arches a brow at your sudden request, but he gives you the green light with a single nod of his head. After telling you to leave the necessary paperwork at his desk, Coach Kurosu stalks over to Ginjima, whacking him upside the head for 'adding unnecessary volume to his voice'. You take advantage of everyone's amusement to slip out of the gym unnoticed.

* * *

Inarizaki has a lot of buildings which meant a lot of rooftops, but the most famous spot for confessing one's feelings is at the one closest to the school gates. It's the oldest building ever constructed on campus and legend has it that those who proclaim their love there would certainly earn the fox god's favor. You're one of the select few who aren't swayed by a tale that most likely sprung from the imagination of some bored student that wanted to spark a few laughs decades ago. But a majority of Inarizaki's students still go by that tradition since it has an inexplicable success rate. 

When one of your friends found out about how your confession to Osamu turned out, the first thing she told you was, "You should've confessed to him at the First Building, dummy!" as if changing the venue would change the way he felt about you. It was nothing short of irritating to hear that aloud, but the spike in relationships being made through impromptu confessions at the First Building's rooftop only ground your peace of mind to dust. But you'd keel over first before admitting that there's a chance in hell that you'd be with Osamu right now if only you'd confessed to him at the famed rooftop. 

But another thought entirely is plaguing your mind as you brush past students who are heading home at a leisurely pace. Ginjima was right when he said that Atsumu doesn't entertain confessions from just anyone. Despite his innate ability to make any person desire him, he knows when to draw the line when he truly isn't interested. 

Dread pools in your stomach at the notion of some measly first year catching his interest enough to actually show up at her request. 

Even if that quick breakfast date the following morning might have soothed the damage of the previous Friday night's events, you could only imagine what Atsumu thinks when he's alone with his own thoughts.

His girlfriend saying she's still in love with his brother is one of the worst things he could possibly hear from you, but instead of hating you for it, he even offered some consolation that you definitely don't deserve. 

The patience that Atsumu has been giving you is enough to be revered, but you know very well that there's a limit to any person's understanding— _especially_ if all you've done is abuse that understanding. 

_This is it, isn't it,_ a hopeless voice echoes in your mind. _He finally got a hold of his senses and decided to start seeing other people._

Your heart thunders in your chest when you open the metal door to the rooftop, the roar of blood in your ears almost deafening. The sweltering breeze of the afternoon blows past your face as your eyes frantically dart across the vicinity. When you strain your ears, you can vaguely make out the sound of hushed conversation somewhere to your right. So, with a shuddering breath, you quietly tiptoed closer. 

"Thank you for answering my questions, Miya-senpai."

You freeze upon hearing a squeaky yet noticeably male voice. 

"I still don't get why ya didn't ask (Name) instead, but I'm glad to have helped." 

The second voice is one dipping at a lower tone that you've had the comfort of hearing through phone calls before bed. It's the voice that many people at school fall in love with, along with the person who articulates it. And it's carried by the same person that shamelessly admitted that he's in love with you, diving headfirst into uncertainty regardless of how it'll leave him in the future.

You're a moment too slow to reposition yourself in a less compromising manner. When Atsumu and whoever he's with emerges from the wall they've been conversing from behind, your boyfriend's eyes widen in surprise and the shorter boy emits a sound akin to a mouse's squeak. 

"What're ya doin' here?" Atsumu immediately walks in front of you. 

"I could ask you the same thing," you school your voice into neutrality, eyeing the other boy with thinly veiled wariness. "Gin's looking for you." 

Atsumu chuckles airily, bringing a hand to your face to swipe his thumb across your cheek—a gesture that he frequently uses to silently apologize for an inconvenience he's caused you. But those dreadful feelings from earlier are slow to disperse, and you unconsciously strain against his affection. This, of course, doesn't escape his notice because you know for one that Atsumu has a talent at reading people based on their body language. 

"Rohan, can we have a moment?" he tells the other boy, who you notice has a sketchbook tucked beneath one arm. Rohan, as Atsumu addressed him, ducks his head into a curt bow, thanking him again before disappearing behind the door you emerged from. When it clicks back in place, the sound leaves behind some semblance of awareness that you're alone with Atsumu on the First Building's rooftop.

"Did I do anythin' that could've gotten me on your bad side?" he asks, treading carefully. 

"T-That love letter," you blurt out. "Wasn't anyone going to confess to you today?" 

It takes a moment for Atsumu to reply to your inquiry, his expression morphing into pronounced confusion. But when the gears in his mind click into understanding, he barks out the most beautiful ~~condescending~~ laugh you've ever heard. 

"Correct me if I'm wrong but," he says in-between giggles, "were you _jealous_?" 

A crease mars your forehead as your face warms at his accusation. "O-Of course not! Why would I...why would I be jealous?"

Thankfully, he manages to calm down enough to give you a warm smile that leaves a tingling sensation in your chest. The way the receding sunlight draws forth the shadows on his face reminds you of an old painter's work you've seen displayed in a museum. Your heart picks up at the sight, tying your stomach into knots and rendering you unable to utter another word in your defense. 

"The letter from this morning is from that kid, Rohan," he says slowly, as if making sure you catch every word he's saying. "He told me he was too shy ta ask me up front, and that I might not notice it if he hadn't packaged that thing like he did. I'll give 'im credit for that though, 'cause he's right. I wouldn't have seen it if it wasn't so...girly.

"The thing he asked me about is...well, _us_. The kid's an aspiring manga artist, and he said he wanted ta try his hand at shogi or some shit. Ya know, that one genre all girls like ta read?"

"It's _shoujo_ , Atsumu," you correct dryly.

"Yeah, yeah." He waves away your meticulousness. "Anyway, he just asked a bunch'a stuff like how we met, how we got together, how we fell in love, and uh... The latter questions were kinda hard to answer. I haven't been feeding him bullshit if that's what you're thinkin'. I was honest to a fault, ya know. Even told him that you're in love with Osamu and not me." 

But you aren't surprised with him telling someone else about your true feelings, like he probably assumes. Instead, you're at awe with the fact that he actually narrated his relationship with you as it is. In the past, Atsumu had a habit of fabricating stories about his girlfriends to other people to make himself sound cooler than he actually is. Admitting mediocrity was the last thing on his to-do list, but now he even embraced how unfortunate of a situation he's in. 

When he's done filling you in on what actually happened, Atsumu leans against the wall to his side, mouth curling with a hint of mischief that's so familiar it's almost endearing. 

"Ya looked scared as shit back there though," he points out, eyes sparking with contempt. "What if it _was_ a girl that wanted ta confess to me? Would my girlfriend just let that slide? Or will she fight to the death in a battle for my affections?" 

You could feel your face flushing at his remark. "A-And what if I chose the latter?"

His smugness melts away almost too quickly, overshadowed by unhinged astonishment, like he hadn't anticipated that you'd respond like that. Atsumu straightens himself before you, raking his fingers in his bleached hair as he evades your piercing gaze. The pinkish tinge that dusts his cheeks is so comical, you had to resist the urge to snap a photo. 

"You, of all people, shoulda known that I never show up whenever someone wants ta confess to me," he sulks. "I've only ever had eyes for you, ya moro—what are you doing?" 

"Shush," you chide him, lacing your fingers behind his neck before he could react.

The gesture stuns him into silence, but he still eyes you with careful scrutiny, awaiting your next move. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you lean closer to his face as your heart thumped harder in your ribcage. You can feel your lips trembling at the awareness of how little space there is between you, but Atsumu is in no better condition. He's practically gawking at this point, but before you could give yourself a chance to think about what you ought to do in this position, you place a feather-light kiss on his cheek.

"Practice started half an hour ago." you say as you pull away completely, shielding your reddened face from his view. "Let's go."

You can almost hear his breath hitching when he responds with, "Y-Yeah. Sorry." 

The First Building's rooftop is famous for cultivating relationships in Inarizaki High. It's something you've long called a hoax, but that one afternoon on the renowned rooftop is a memory that you and Atsumu would look back on countless times a few years down the road. 


	6. Chapter 6

Having spent your life growing up with two boys, it's a given that you're more comfortable with establishing friendships with other boys instead of girls. You've always felt isolated in elementary school, where all your female classmates did was talk about dolls and dresses and everything else a typical eleven year-old would want. Your interests lied elsewhere.

At the time, Atsumu and Osamu already lugged you in on their budding affinity for volleyball, and while you didn't have the innate talent for it, you discovered that you were pretty keen with spotting a player's weaknesses. Come junior high, you've already immersed yourself in various training regimens and knew how to correct certain errors in players' dispositions on-court. Instead of playing the sport itself, you figured that your knowledge and skills were better suited for a managerial position. 

That particular decision only made you more estranged from other girls as the years went by. It's a fact that you don't really spend a lot of time pondering about, since there isn't anything wrong with being surrounded by a bunch of sweaty boys in the first place. But like any other educational institution with kids that didn't know how to mind their own business, rumors eventually began creeping from god-knows-where. 

It all began in your first year of high school, when the twins decidedly dyed their hair for self-expression. ("Definitely _not_ 'cause I'm gettin' sick of tellin' girls that they've got the wrong Miya," grumbled Osamu.) They were a hit in Inarizaki, that's for certain. But, knowing that they both hang around their manager, some tortured souls went out of their way to paint malice into your life-long friendship. 

"I heard she only joined the volleyball team so she's the center of attention for all the boys."

"I can't believe she's trying to claim both twins for herself! That's just cheap." 

"Isn't polyamory illegal in Japan?" 

You're the kind of person who didn't easily lose their cool, especially over trivial matters that weren't even true. For years, you've done a great job at ignoring any baseless assumptions about you and the twins (and boys in general). But when one of Atsumu's hardcore admirers, Shizuka, decided to pull a not-so-funny prank on you during your second year, the blond showed you a side of him that you've never encountered in the many years you've been friends.

"Did'ja really think that I'll fall in love with you if ya steal (Name)'s uniform while she's showerin'?" Atsumu practically glowered at Shizuka, face twisted with unrelenting rage when he discovered your uniform inside her locker. "How _pathetic_ can you be? There ain't a chance in hell that I'll let ya get near me _or_ her after this stunt. Now do yourself a favor and fuck off." 

When the brazen words fell from his lips, all you could do is gape at his (warranted) discourtesy as Atsumu carefully handed you your uniform. There's a softness in his eyes as he did, and though the sight was a bit bizarre, you couldn't give it a second thought. Not when Osamu was slinging a protective arm around your jacket-clad shoulders. You were only donned in a flimsy undershirt and cycling shorts, and the silver-haired twin had immediately stripped off his track jacket to help you cover up before you all stomped over to condemn the perpetrator.

After the whole incident had run its course, your image only worsened. This time, ignoring all the hushed whispers about you wasn't as easy as it used to when people who weren't affiliated with the volleyball team began evading you for no reason. It became so severe, that one practice ended with you sniffling into Aran's arms as the twins, Akagi, and Ginjima vowed to clobber everyone that's been giving their manager a hard time. 

"I'm all for givin' (Surname) the just treatment she deserves," Kita intoned once you were done sobbing. "But change can only be ascertained when there's active effort from both parties involved." 

Aran chuckled airily as he stroked your hair. "Always the neutral, aren't you?"

"Kita-san is right though," Suna agreed. "Maybe instead of tuning them out, you should try to, I don't know, spend time with them?"

Your bottom lip swelled into a pout. "W-why would I—" _sniffle_ , "—need to hang out with people—" _sniffle_ , "—who hate my guts?" 

He shrugged. "Never said you needed to, though. All I'm saying is that, since beating them obviously isn't working, why not just join them?" 

"Suna, I am gonna kick your ass," Atsumu promised through gritted teeth. 

Though the suggestion was ideal at best and wishful thinking at worst when it was first put on the table, it actually proved to be effective. As you spent more time outside your duties as a manager and as a friend to every one of the boys, you gave others a chance to get to know you better; eliminating all prior prejudice against you in the process. The improvement was phenomenal, actually. One thing led to another, and Shizuka eventually became your best friend, too. 

Rewinding back to the present, you're in the middle of eating parfaits with her on a day devoid of practice when you're faced with a rather off-putting question.

"(Name)-chan, how far have you and Miya-san gone?" 

You nearly choke on the strawberry you were in the middle of swallowing. Shizuka pats your back as you sputter and desperately try to even out your breath.

"W-What?" you ask. 

She giggles, shovelling another spoonful of parfait in her mouth. "Well, you know, Miya-san is always so forward and daring, so I was just curious…" 

You swallow thickly, evading her keen gaze. "I have no idea what you're thinking, but Atsumu and I don't do that kind of stuff," is your mumbled response as you tried to interest yourself in your parfait again. 

"Not even once?"

"No," you assert. "We haven't even…we haven't even kissed yet." 

"What?" Shizuka exclaims, slamming her hands on the table. "What do you _mean_ you haven't kissed?" 

"Is that so strange?" you pout. "W-well, the idea of kissing him is still sort of weird to me. So we haven't."

"But you've been dating for, what, two months, no?" You nod. "And not once did that scheming fox try to snag _one_ kiss from you? Knowing how he treated all his past girlfriends?"

You wince slightly at the reminder. It wasn't really a secret that Atsumu was physical with all his previous relationships. All the times you've had to bail him out of the principal's office because of numerous PDA offenses is palpable. But now that Shizuka mentioned it, you realize he really hasn't actively tried to pull any sort of suggestive moves on you at all. (Save for that one absentminded kiss he gave you a few weeks ago.) 

“Do cheek kisses count?”

“What? Of course not.”

"Then, nope," you affirm when your parfait glass is almost empty. 

Shizuka nods respectfully, finishing up her own dessert with a contemplative hum. "Huh. Never would've pegged that guy for such a patient boyfriend."

Unwittingly, her words got you thinking. 

* * *

Whenever Saturdays roll around, Osamu is almost always at his college-prep classes, like the ever-responsible student he is. For you and Atsumu, however, it's spent trying to reapply the bleach in his hair. 

"You know you're going to go bald if you do this every week, right?" You sigh, flopping yourself on one of the stools you dragged inside his bathroom as you tossed the plastic gloves you used in the bin. 

Atsumu sits comfortably at the edge of the bathtub, glancing at his phone every now and then to check the time left to leave in the hair bleach. "That's why I'm going to increase my interval to two weeks instead."

"Or you could just…I don't know, leave your hair alone for a month at least?" 

He hollers at your words like you just told him a joke. "Very funny. Is there any on my undercut, by the way?" Atsumu turns around to give you better leeway, but you know there aren't any bleach stains on his prized undercut because you were the one who applied the sharp-smelling goop in the first place.

"Yeah, it's _everywhere_ , 'Tsumu. No one's going to fall for you anymore," you bluff with a matching eye-roll.

"Shame," he rebuts dramatically. "And I thought I was close to having ya to myself." 

He means it as a jest—anyone would be able to tell. But nonetheless, your heart lurches at his words and you suddenly recall a certain parfait date with Shizuka. The conversation you've had with her that day didn't plague your mind as often as it did a week ago, but...

"Hey, 'Tsumu?"

"Hmm?" He flicks his gaze back to you. "What is it?"

"I'm your girlfriend, right?"

"Last time I checked, yeah. You're my girlfriend."

"And you like me, right?" 

"…Are you try'na pick a fight with me or somethin'?" he asks through bubbling laughter.

"Shut up. I'm just…trying to understand something here," you clarify with a groan. "So I'm your girlfriend, and we've been dating for two months now," is how you tick off the facts at hand. Then, you add, "And you like me."

He stares at you for a moment, unable to piece together what you're going on about. In the end, he sighs, mouth curving into a soft smile as he turns back to his phone—decidedly playing along. "That's right." 

"Well." You swallow the lump in your throat, wondering at the last minute if asking him is a good idea. "How come you've never tried to kiss me?" 

You can tell from the way he looks up from his phone so abruptly that this is the kind of thing that he's given a lot of thought for even before you thought about asking him. His expression morphs into something a little more serious—that mirth of his having vanished. 

"Would ya want me to?" he parries, uncharacteristically careful with his words.

The silence that follows the curious inquiry is nearly deafening, save for the continuous drip of his leaky shower head. You mull over your response for a minute, and you realize that the tension in the air is eerily similar to the one from the night he confessed.

Your instinctive reaction is still a cold hard _no_ , but you've always had a knack for giving things like this a double-take because you don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. But this time it feels a bit...different. 

Admittedly, the prominent thing that drove you to give Atsumu a chance was pity. The fear of losing him as a friend was only secondary, if you're being honest. But now, you're not contemplating your next course of action because you want to provide him a cushion for his feelings. No, you're thinking about this carefully because you're aware that the instinctive 'no' from earlier is not the 'no' that could have been if he asked you the same thing two months ago. You aren't even sure why you _want_ to say no to begin with.

But that doesn't make it a 'yes' either. 

Your feelings for Osamu are yet to leave without a trace. Though they've become less volatile, it's certain that they still exist in the depths of your heart. But you've never really thought of Osamu that way. 

With Atsumu though…it makes you the slightest bit curious. 

"I don't know," you admit shakily, balling your hands into fists to quell the frustration that's seeping into your veins. Why are you so goddamn indecisive?

To your surprise (and relief), he smiles and shrugs, standing up from the bathtub to stretch out his limbs.

"That's exactly why I haven't." 

"Huh?"

He saunters over to you, crouching so that your eyes are levelled with his. When he's this near, your nose wrinkles at the sharp scent of hair dye, but you're too distracted by his endearing gaze to tell him off.

"I want you to want me to kiss you," he says with a somewhat sly smile. "I don't want you to just go with it if I give ya a kiss you don't want just 'cause you feel like ya shouldn't say no to me. Or 'cause we're dating. Or any other bullshit reason for the matter." 

You blink at him. "W-What about your all other—"

"My previous relationships were disasters; you know that," he interrupts, eyes averting from yours for a millisecond before going back to staring at you with the intent to consume you with his gaze. "I..don't want ta make the same mistakes. Especially with you."

"Atsumu…" 

He regains his composure almost immediately, smiling lovingly once again. "I want you to want it, too. Not because I do or you think you should, but because you chose to." 

Atsumu's mouth twitches back into that trademark smirk of his. It's a look that makes him all the more unpredictable even if you have lived with this idiot for practically the entirety of your life. Your heart picks up at the sight, but you know it isn't from worry or anxiety that you've made the wrong decision with attempting to return his feelings. 

"I want you to want me," he adds, cupping your face in his hands. "So if you ever feel like havin' our first kiss, it'll be on your terms—or it won't be at all." 

You can almost feel your face going aflame with the sincerity of his words. Is this guy for real? How is anyone so deliberately patient? Do you even deserve any of this careful treatment at all? 

"Aw, you're blushin'!" Atsumu coos, squishing your cheeks together. You swat his hands away with a scowl, and his laughter echoes through the tiled walls. 

"Shut it, 'Tsumu," you reprimand him with a soft kick to the shin, but you're unable to suppress the grin that's forcing its way onto your lips. "Let's clean this up before Osamu gets home and goes ballistic again."


	7. Chapter 7

"You want to _what_?" 

"I said," Atsumu huffs, cheeks tainted red as he kicks the door to his room closed. "I wanna try braidin' your hair." 

You shoot him a bizarre look as you seated yourself on one of the beanbags on the floor, unsure if you heard him right. But from the way the small pout persists on his face, you're certain he's anything but joking. A loud snort escapes you before you can stop it. Then, you ask him, "What spurred this on all of a sudden? I haven't braided my hair since we were, like, twelve." 

"There's lots'a stuff we haven't done since we were twelve, stupid," he grumbles, flopping himself on the bottom bunk of his shared bed with Osamu. "Can't I reminisce a little when I want to?"

"I thought you hated elementary school."

"I had a life _outside_ elementary school." He rolls his eyes. "'Samu, Aran and I used ta catch rhinoceros beetles in the park whenever summer came around. Do you remember that?" 

You make an amused noise as you stretch your legs across the carpeted floor, still having that memory engraved in your mind. "You guys made it into a contest one time, too. You had the smallest beetle." 

"Yeah, whatever. Just let me braid your freakin' hair," Atsumu insists before you startle at the sound of his Bluetooth speaker connecting with his phone. After a few swipes and taps, a song by an unfamiliar artist plays softly in the room. 

"This doesn't have anything to do with the team's most recent visit to the Ginjima household, does it?" Your mouth curls into a knowing smile when you piece together the possible motive behind Atsumu's sudden interest. 

"And if it does?" He hefts an eyebrow at you, but the blush on his face only worsens. "Ya gotta admit, Gin has _mad_ braidin' skills. Hinami-chan looked pretty cute. Bet I could do even better though." 

"Coming from someone who's never braided hair ever in his life? Debatable." 

Atsumu gasps. "I'll have ya know that—oh wait, this part's good." 

Tilting your head to the side, you're about to ask him what he meant by that, but then the song that's streaming through the speaker picks up a faster pace. The next thing you know, it's already right at the chorus. Atsumu bangs his head to the beat, mouthing lyrics you couldn't understand. The idiot even has his eyes closed as he sings along.

The sight isn't all that uncommon. Atsumu has a habit of singing along to songs he likes, whether or not he's aware of his own tone-deafness. But it brings a stupid grin on your face every time he does so anyway.

When the climax transitions into the second verse, your boyfriend shifts his attention back to you. "As I was saying... Why are ya smilin' at me like that?"

You shake your head, chuckling. "It's nothing. You were about to argue about me implying you can't braid for shit?" 

"Oh, right. I _so_ can braid for shit!"

"Yeah?" you challenge him, removing the tie that bound your hair together in a ponytail. "Come here and prove it."

"Heh," Atsumu intones, sliding to the floor behind you before cracking his knuckles. "Watch and learn and _eat your words_." 

* * *

The next time you drop by the Miya household after that disastrous braiding session with Atsumu, it's unannounced on a Saturday afternoon. 

It's hard to stand still as you wait for someone to answer the door, trying to contain that grin of self-contentment that's spreading across your lips. To say that you're proud of yourself for having managed to finally do something on Atsumu's behalf is an understatement. It's even harder to keep the feat a secret from him until you could finally tell him in person. 

But the hardest thing that you probably had to deal with in putting your whole master plan into motion is admitting to the fact that, the reason you only waited this long to tell Atsumu up front is because you want to be the first to witness the look on his face when he hears the news. To see those golden eyes light up with amusement as he beams at you like you know he will once he finds out. 

When the front door squeaks open, you're about to open your mouth to lilt your boyfriend's name but your voice hitches in your throat when someone else greets you. 

"Hey," Osamu says, eyes widened like he didn't expect to see you either. "You need somethin'?"

He's dressed in a way that suggests that he's about to head out, like he always does nowadays. Osamu was never really the adventurous type in the past, always preferring to stay home unless you and Atsumu coerced him into tagging along when his brother wanted to hang out. You're certain that the spike in his social activity has something to do with the person he's supposedly seeing.

It's been a good two weeks since that encounter back in the gym's storage room, and you're yet to have a conversation with Osamu that isn't littered with furtive glances and awkward tension. But you aren't quite ready to address your current situation just yet. 

You begin to bounce on the balls of your feet—a nervous tic of yours—as he scrutinizes you. "Is, uh, Atsumu home?" 

"Yeah," he answers tersely, opening the door wider as an invitation. "He's in the shower. We all know he takes ages ta get a bath over with, so..." 

A small smile makes its way on your face as kick your shoes off and let yourself inside. Osamu gently closes the door behind him before his eyes momentarily flick towards the way you're hiding your hands behind your back. You emit a sound that sounds like a strangled squeak, blushing profusely when he cocks an eyebrow at you. 

"S-So, you heading out?" you say in an attempt to divert his attention, making it so that your hands are in between the nearby wall and your back. Osamu nods minutely, that careful scrutiny of his yet to leave his gaze. 

You gulp down the trepidation in your chest, laughing nervously. "I'll, uh, wait for him in the living room." 

Without another word, you shove Atsumu's surprise in the front pocket of your shorts. But before you could turn on your heel and stalk over to the Miyas' living room, Osamu seizes you by the wrist, making you yelp out loud. When you whip around to face him, the anxiety on your face melts into gradual surprise because Osamu has a strange, pleading look in his eyes that you don't see very often. 

"Can we talk?" he asks, holding your gaze steadily. 

Your brows nearly shoot up to your hairline and you take in a shaky breath, gaze momentarily flickering between his face and where his fingers are enclosed around your wrist. As much as you want to skitter away and avoid Osamu, you don't have that good of a reason outside the silly fear of making a fool out of yourself, right? A defeated sigh makes its way from your lips as you give him the green light to do as he pleases.

Osamu's mouth quivers into a tentative grin, but there's a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "Living room?" 

"Sure." 

You follow him in front of a room with shoji doors slid to the side. The sight of the leather couches and the large TV mounted on the wall of a relatively traditional room is something you've grown used to seeing growing up.

You fondly recall the times you spent with the twins playing board games on the tatami mats as cartoons flashed across the TV screen. Atsumu, ever the sore loser he is, would lose his composure every time Osamu outfoxed him in Snakes n' Ladders and would sulk on the sofa until their mother chided him for 'not being a good sport'. 

An absentminded grin plays at your lips at the memory and Osamu shoots you a questioning look, but thankfully decides not to press the matter. He seats himself on the leather sofa with chipped upholstery and you take your own place at a respectable distance beside him.

Osamu laces his fingers together and rests his arms on his knees, staring mutely at the coffee table in front of him. You bite the inside of your cheek in anticipation. What did he want to talk about, exactly?

"I've been thinkin' about approachin' ya for a while now, you know?" he begins, shifting his gaze towards you—the silver of his eyes mesmerizing you into silence.

When you realize that he's still talking in the midst of your momentary entrancement with how different his eyes are from his brother's, you seem to have missed the most important part of his spiel since Osamu's staring at you expectantly when he closes his mouth.

"P-Pardon?" you stammer, fidgeting with the sleeves of your sweater. 

He clears his throat awkwardly. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. For not talking to ya properly sooner." 

"Huh? What for?"

"I know that even when you began datin' 'Tsumu, you still had some feelings for me." The way he says those words so bluntly makes you want to crawl into a hole and rot, but you refuse to lose face in front of him, opting to let him continue uninterrupted. "My approach the last time I tried gettin' you alone wasn't, uh, the way I thought it'd turn out. I thought it would be better not to say anythin' about it, so I pretended not to know. But I didn't really expect ya to react like that." 

Embarrassment colors your face crimson so severe you can feel the heat creeping up your neck. "So you knew? Right from the start?" 

He hums. "Ya think 'Tsumu can keep his mouth shut over somethin' like that? Of course I'm the first to know. We're twins—we know everythin' about each other." 

Knowing that their brotherhood hasn't really changed even at the knowledge of Atsumu dating someone who used to like him makes a pang of sentiment ripple in your chest. You haven't really considered the twins' relationship, your mind being so caught up in your own problems.

They live in the same house, they share the same room, sleep in a _bunk bed_ , for god's sake. It shouldn't be a surprise to you that Osamu knows but chose to keep his silence about it, feigning his own ignorance for reasons unclear to you.

"Why?" Your voice is barely audible as you cast him a questioning stare.

"I didn't want to cloud your judgement. It kinda sounds narcissistic, I know. But I thought that, maybe if I stayed away, you'd be able ta focus your attention on 'im entirely," he supplies, sweeping his gaze away from you. "'Tsumu's a genuine guy despite his cocky attitude. You and I both know that better than anyone else. Once he told me about gettin' serious with you, I purposely stepped out'ta the picture 'cause I know there isn't anyone better suited for the job than him." 

"Why can't it be you?" you blurt out the words before your mind could even register what it could imply if you say it aloud. Once Osamu hears them, he stiffens and you have half the mind to slap yourself right then and there. But before you could resort to self-inflicted violence, he laughs again, a little louder this time. 

"I think you already know the answer ta that." Osamu grins and it looks so sincere, it almost hurts. 

"Is it because you're seeing someone else?" is your pathetic attempt at deflecting the implication of his words. 

He rolls his eyes. "It's 'cause you already love him, if ya haven't noticed." 

You could feel your pulse race at Osamu's forwardness as you dig your nails into your own palms, but the protest catches in your throat. 

"Do you remember the time when 'Tsumu received that love letter a few weeks ago?" he queries. "I haven't seen that much bloodlust in a high schooler's eyes before. And you should _see_ the way you look at him sometime." 

"Why? What's so strange about that?" you ask dryly.

"(Name). I'm sure as hell that you ain't _that_ dense. The way you look at 'Tsumu is the way you used to look at me."

You try to frame your lips around a coherent response, but your voice still stutters when you say, "And h-how do you know the way I look at you?" 

Osamu all but groans, a hand ruffling his silver hair as he muttered about how impossible you were being. "Jesus, I didn't know 'Tsumu had it this bad. You're one hell of an in-denial woman." 

You're about to dismiss his assumptions with another passive question that you already knew the answer to. _What's that supposed to mean?_ You knew all too well that your relationship with Atsumu would have progressed much faster if you didn't have the inhibitions that still shackled you to your own comfort zone. 

Part of you still wants to refuse that you feel such a way about Atsumu. Sure, your heart stutters pensively in your chest whenever he flashes you either of his arrogant smirks or a rare but genuine smile. Sure, him taking your hands in his larger ones gave you a sense of comfort like no other. Sure, being with him makes you forget how complicated your situation is. But...

"I don't want to fuck up," you admit, eyes riveting to the tatami mats. "I don't deserve him, 'Samu. He's too good for me." 

He snorts. "Now, don't go puttin' him on a pedestal just 'cause he's been patient enough to be canonized a saint. He's still the asshole we all know an' love. 

"But...I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I did something to hurt him." You heave a sigh, biting the inside of your cheek for some semblance of stability. Of all the ways you thought this visit would turn out, getting a hard reality check from Osamu isn't one of the possibilities you thought of. 

Osamu chuckles, scooting a little closer to you before patting your head affectionately... That's strange. If he'd done that before, you'd be swooning inside, unable to contain your own excitement. Yet now, all you could feel is the touch of a friend that's been with you since you were children—nothing more, nothing less.

He seems to have caught on with the realization that clicks in your eyes, pulling you into an abrupt embrace before saying, "I won't go puttin' words in your mouth, so if ya really love 'Tsumu from the bottom of your heart, you shouldn't worry about fuckin' up. 'Cause, in the first place, I know you'll make sure you won't." 

Your mouth quivers with the intent of replying, but no words come out. Osamu disengages from you when he hears the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. In the preceding moment, Atsumu can be heard yelling, "Oi, 'Samu! Who was at the door?" 

The silver-haired twin gives you one final nod of the head. "(Name)'s here to see ya. I'm headin' out, alright?"

At the mention of your name, Atsumu immediately bolts down the stairs, nearly tripping on the tatami once he rounds the corner that leads to the living room. You're about to tell him off for running inside his own house like a six year-old but your voice fails when you take in his appearance.

Atsumu is clad only in his boxers. His skin is still moist and his hair is dripping wet, matted in an illicitly becoming way to his forehead as he catches his breath in ragged intervals. The towel slung across his shoulder speaks volume in itself about the fact that his daily, hour-long shower has come to an end, even if the rest of the details weren't clue enough. You can hear Osamu snickering to himself as he slips past his brother by the door, patting Atsumu's bare shoulder a few times before heading out.

Even as the sound of the front door clicking shut signals Osamu's exit, you still find your eyes glued to the way the water droplets slide down his perfectly toned abs. It's borderline criminal how distracting such a menial little thing is. 

It isn't your first time seeing him half-naked. And you're definitely not unused to walking around men in various states of undress. After all, you're the manager of an athletic team that collectively sweats enough that it sometimes gets them to relieve themselves of their clothes one way or another during practice. 

"What brings you here?" Atsumu wonders aloud, oblivious to the way his half-decent state is affecting your peace of mind as he towels his hair. 

His question sinks in with a half a minute delay or so, during which you're staring transfixed at the motions of his strong hands while he messily dries his hair—and is it fair that something so mundane, so normal as that has you staring so unblinkingly at him for no apparent reason? 

You snap out of it when you wrap your head around the fact that he's expecting a response from you—preferably one that's coherent. You're grateful that you zone back in before Atsumu notices how long you're taking to form a normal answer.

All of a sudden, the weight of two strips of glossy paper suddenly sits heavy in your pocket. 

You clear your throat, hoping it'd clear your mind as well, before beaming up at him. "I got you something that you're going to love. A lot." 

"Now, that ain't very specific," he says, crossing his arms. "I love everythin' ya give me." 

Your chest warms at his proclamation as you fish his surprise from where you hid it from his brother earlier. When his gaze locks with the pair of tickets in your hands, he blinks in nonplus for half a second before letting his mouth hang agape.

The band Atsumu was previously listening to in his room the last time you came over, and the same band that he absolutely wouldn't shut up about for the past few days was actually on tour in Japan. After pulling a few strings with the help of Shizuka (her father organized the event), you scored a couple of V.I.P seats in their Hyogo show next week. 

Once it sinks in, he grabs you by your hands, gazing reverently at the tickets in your grasp. He stares at them for a while, probably wondering if they're real. You couldn't help the chuckle of amusement that sounds from your lips at his childlike glee. Then, he proceeds to hold you by the waist, lifting you up in the air with ease as he spun you around without mind, grinning so much that you could almost see tears glistening in his eyes.

When Atsumu sets you back down to your feet, he encases you in his strong arms. You yelp at the feeling of his bare muscles and built chest scraping against your own clothes, your face set aflame. Fortunately, he seems to be too caught up in his own excitement that he barely has the time to tease you about it. 

"You're right," he says breathlessly as he pries the tickets from your hands, shining them in the light of the living room as he inspected them further. "I do love it. A lot." 

"I love you, too," you murmur under your breath. 

"What was that?" 

You flush at your own mumbled response, Osamu's prior words ringing in your mind like a bell. But instead of repeating it, you leave his question unanswered, letting him revel in the reality that he'll be singing along live to his new favorite songs in a weeks' time. He launches himself into a conversation about what outfit he should wear, what time you should leave for the venue, and any other similar query that pops into his head. Those questions, you answer with vague responses, telling him that you'll burn the bridge when you get there. 

"No, no, no." He shakes his head vigorously. "We gotta shop for new clothes! Everyone's gonna be all stylish and shit during that concert. Like hell we're gonna be left out!"

You tell yourself that his nonchalant use of _we_ shouldn't make you as happy as it does. You bought tickets for two after all. You're supposed to go together. He tells you—almost shouts over his shoulder—to give him a minute while he runs back up to his room to get some clothes on so the two of you could make a quick trip to the mall. 

In the wake of his departure, you manage to ignore the stab of disappointment that comes with being deprived so soon of his frame clad only in a pair of boxers while his skin glistened with droplets of water from his shower. Instead, you let yourself think of the wealth of happiness that surges through you at the thought of being able to make him so happy and ecstatic just by calling a few favors to get those tickets. 

But no matter how hard you fight against it, you find yourself unable to repress the blush that's spreading across your cheeks, the skin under your clothes prickling where it's been in close proximity to Atsumu's bare chest. The intermittent beat of your heart in response to his bold advance in the heat of the moment is something difficult to overlook, too. 

Your unexpected reception to the whole thing makes your mind wander into dangerous territory. If it takes so little to rile you up—just him pressing his naked chest into your own in an innocent embrace—what would become of you if Atsumu ever initiated something...more? 

Then, you remind yourself that he won't give you anything more lest you make the first move, so there isn't really a need for you to ponder about that. It's not as if you _want_ to kiss him, right? 

Unless...? 


	8. Chapter 8

There's a lot of things you begin noticing at the end of your ninth week as a couple.

When Atsumu was nothing more than your best friend, you thought that you practically knew everything there is to know about him. Growing up alongside both him and his brother granted you the privilege after all.

But your understanding with his person only delved deeper once you started seeing him as someone more than just a boy you spent your whole life with. Some of his annoying traits that you thought were a nuisance are becoming strangely endearing, and he's even started showing you a gentler side of himself that you never thought he was capable of channeling.

You try not to read into that fact too much because even if Osamu might be right about your alleged feelings for Atsumu, you aren't quite ready to live up to face the startling revelations that might follow once you resign yourself to the idea. 

However, while there are many positive things to note about Atsumu since you became his girlfriend, you still couldn't help but pay more attention to those that don't quite sit well with you. And one of the more peculiar things you've noticed about your boyfriend is that he has a serious case of wandering eye. 

It's no secret that Atsumu is shameless in almost every aspect of his life—be it volleyball or something else entirely. That audacity just happens to branch off whenever you're outside on a date with him as well.

It's not really news to you, since you've always been aware of the way his gaze lingered on some of the girls you passed by before. You never really paid his penchant for staring much mind because it didn't really matter unless his in-game performance was being affected; which is a rare occurrence in itself. And while you didn't exactly approve of the way he eyed those girls in an almost predatory manner, it's not like you had a good enough reason to reproach him just because he was _looking_. 

But perhaps there's a part of you that assumed that, since you're his girlfriend now, maybe he could've gotten past his habit of letting his gaze linger on other girls. He even told you that he only had eyes for you at some point, didn't he? 

Then again, the number of girlfriends and flings that Atsumu's had in his eighteen years wears down your confidence in him a little. You're left wondering if that's what he tells his other conquests before he inevitably leaves them hanging.

Before you could let that train of thought progress any further, you'd often chide yourself for even thinking something like that in the first place. The damn guy bent over backwards just to win your heart, even at the knowledge that you were in love with his brother, and you're just going to question him like that? No. He's changed. You know he has.

But as the final set of songs is being performed by Atsumu's new favorite band, you catch those golden eyes sneaking glances every now and again somewhere to your right. Discreetly, you follow his gaze and then you realize that he's staring at the generous cleavage that the woman next to you is showcasing for everyone to see.

You swallow the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to pretend that you didn't notice. This band has a fan base that consists of lots of people who are into indie music, which could probably account for their equally great taste in clothes, as well. 

The unease that settles under your skin doesn't really leave even when he stops staring, but you decide against bringing it up entirely. 

When the concert comes to an end, you're hand-in-hand with your boyfriend as you exit the arena. He doesn't seem to have any plans on stopping when he talks your ear off about how life-changing the experience is. 

"It's the first concert I've ever been to, y'know!" he says, grinning so wide, you almost forgot about that earlier slight of his. 

"I take that you had a good time?" Your brow quirks inquisitively. 

Atsumu snorts, eyes crinkling. "Duh. I can't freakin' believe that they just happened ta be on tour a week after I found out they existed. How'd ya even get tickets so fast?" 

"A magician never reveals her tricks." 

Just as he's about to open his mouth to dish out some flippant retort, someone clears their throat from behind you. Curious, the two of you whip around to see who it was. Lo and behold, it's the same woman that Atsumu was none-too-discreetly staring at earlier.

"Um, Miya-san, isn't it?" she asks meekly, tucking her bleached blue hair behind her ear. 

For a fraction of a second, Atsumu's gaze flickers towards her mesh-covered bosom, but immediately meets the woman's gaze after. If you weren't watching him so closely you would've missed it. "Who's asking?" 

She smiles, lip ring glinting in the faint light of the street. "Yukimura. Yukimura Setsuko. I graduated high school three years ago and played lots of volleyball. I'd be living under a rock if I didn't know you."

Atsumu's mouth curves into an 'o' at the clarification. "Didn't know I was that popular. Ya sure you ain't talkin' about my brother? He's way cooler."

Yukimura giggles and bats her eyelashes at him, which incites a frown from you. "Hm, I don't think you're very known for being humble, Miya-san. I thought you're the type who's proud of his accomplishments." 

"Well." He shrugs with a nonchalance that's meant to boast. "If ya put it that way..." 

As their discussion progresses, you feel oddly shoved to the side, which you quite literally were. The three of you moved further across the sidewalk so you wouldn't clog the passage of the people exiting the concert venue, and in the next minute, Yukimura snagged him into another bout of conversation, leaving you completely out of it. She hasn't even made any moves entailing that she acknowledged your existence and Atsumu seems to be too engrossed to even introduce you, himself. 

A long sigh escapes you as you lean across a shuttered storefront, rubbing your arms at the feel of the cold air seeping into your skin. While the halter you've chosen for the occasion fits you perfectly, it slipped your mind that winter is just a few months away and you forgot to bring a jacket with you.

Suddenly, you can feel your phone buzzing in your pocket and you immediately take it out. A message from your mother asking where you are flashes across the lock screen and—shit. It's already two in the morning. 

"'Tsumu, can we—" your voice falters when your eyes zero in on Yukimura standing too close to Atsumu as she runs one of her hands through Atsumu's blond hair. 

It's as if all reason has fled your mind in the next moment. The sight of that stranger giving your boyfriend bedroom eyes as she rakes her fingers across his hair made something snap inside of you, prompting you to throw all pleasantries out of the window.

A too-wide smile spreads across your face as you stomped over to them, harshly plucking away the invasive hand that's toying with his golden tufts. Yukimura shoots you a dirty look. 

"Hello, Yukimura-san, I'm (Name). Nice to meet you!" you greet her through gritted teeth, your grip on her wrist nearly bruising. "I'm sorry to cut your conversation with 'Tsumu short, but we reaaaally have to get going. It's getting kind of late and we still have to drive back to get home—"

She scoffs, yanking her arm away from you. "What are you, his mom?" 

Your eye twitches slightly and every single incident Aran has to hold you back from lashing out your frustration towards the team when they're being difficult flashes across your mind. While you have the patience to put up with several teenage boys, you aren't to be messed with when that patience reaches its breaking point. It's no different when someone is trying to flirt with your boyfriend right in front of you. Unfortunately, no one is here to hold you back, so you rebut with:

"I'm his _girlfriend_ ," you tell her a matter-of-factly. "And I really don't appreciate you eye-fucking my boyfriend right in front of me. Didn't you say you graduated three years ago? The hell are you doing preying on high schoolers, then?" 

Atsumu laughs nervously behind you, placing both of his hands on your shoulders. "Ah, Yukimura, sorry. She can be a li'l feisty sometimes, but she doesn't mean any harm—"

"Like hell I don't mean any harm," you hiss, glaring at Yukimura with all the rage you could muster in a single look. "Can you do yourself a favor and flirt with someone your own age?" 

"Hmph." She smirks. "Tell that to your little boyfriend. For the record, _he's_ the one who began eye-fucking me first, little girl."

Your gaze hardens as the words you wanted to fire at her get caught in your throat. So she _did_ notice the way Atsumu snuck glances at her during the concert. Your mouth quivers with the desire to say anything just to have the last word, but before you could think, Yukimura merely laughs at you.

"Volleyball star or no, I don't like getting into unnecessary drama," she simpers, turning around with a strut to her hips. "Keep him. I don't want to compete with desperate children." 

"I'm fucking eighteen!" you almost yell, but Yukimura doesn't even spare you so much as a backwards glance. 

"(Name)," Atsumu pleads, his grip on your shoulders tightening as he attempts to swerve you into the opposite direction. "Let's just go home, alright? Your mom might be lookin' for ya." 

You don't mean to do so, but you affix him with a glare that wouldn't die down, shrugging off his hands from your shoulders as you begin stalking off to the direction where Atsumu parked earlier. The streets are more or less deserted now, which you should probably feel relieved about, since no one was there to witness that little scuffle. But the absence of passers-by only makes the air around you feel even colder.

You're rubbing your shoulders more vigorously now, encouraging more heat into your skin but the breeze is unforgiving and doesn't seem to want you to take it easy. You curse at the ridiculously low temperature when an involuntary shiver runs across your spine. Where the hell is the damn car—

"Oi," Atsumu quips as he jogs closer to you. "What the fuck was that?" 

Frowning, you have to bite your tongue to prevent any snarky remarks from leaving your mouth. You know better than anyone else how harsh you could be when you're pissed off, so you'd rather keep the corrosive feelings to yourself rather than inflicting them upon Atsumu. 

"Nothing," you grumble as you briskly turn away from him. Atsumu sighs irritably, grabbing your wrist and forcing you to face him. 

"Hey." There's some lines of annoyance marring his face and you have half the mind to tell him that he has no right to feel irritated, but you refuse to let yourself say anything you'll regret later. "Yukimura just took a bunch of confetti out'ta my hair earlier, alright? There ain't anything more to it." 

"Is there nothing more to it when you were ogling her tits earlier?" _Shit_. 

"The hell are you talking about?" Atsumu's jaw tightens at your accusation, but his eyes betray the guilt that he's trying to conceal. His feigned ignorance is gasoline being poured across the flames of your growing frustration but—no. You won't. You're not going to get into an argument with him over something as stupid as this. 

You nod slowly. "Alright. S'okay if you don't want to admit to it. Can't force you to do shit you don't want to, right?" 

Atsumu's face twists with rage as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Seriously? Were you just waiting for me to fuck up or somethin'?"

"What?" 

He snorts mirthlessly, lips curved into a taunting grin. "All this time I've been so patient with you, haven't I? You're in love with my damn brother, but did I file any complaints? Yet the moment I break character, here you are bitching about it. Seems kinda unfair, ain't it?" 

"So everything's just an act, then?" you ask him, ignoring the feeling like he just plunged a sword through your chest. "Since you've 'broken character', that only means you're not genuinely doing it, right?" 

Atsumu drags a palm over his face, staring at you in disbelief. "Wh— You _know_ that ain't it, (Name)."

"Then what is it? Why do you have your panties in a twist just 'cause I don't like it when I catch my boyfriend staring at someone else?" 

The hardness of his gaze softens, golden eyes warming with what you like to think is remorse. But you couldn't quite bear looking at the face he's making. You turn your back to him, flopping your arms across your chest as you purge the impending desire to burst into tears.

 _Damn it._ You absolutely loathe getting pissed off especially when it's over trivial matters that shouldn't even warrant your anger. Yet here you are, frustration sticking like cotton in the roof of your mouth as a sob crawled its way up your throat. You hastily wipe away the first bout of tears that wells across the lines of your lashes. Atsumu taking pity on you is the last thing you need right now. 

You visibly startle when you suddenly feel something being draped across your shoulders. Disregarding the haggard look on your face for a moment, you cast Atsumu a questioning glance, only to realise that he shrugged off the parka he was wearing so he could give it to you. 

"Do you want me to look at you? And only you?" he asks quietly, shoving his hands inside the pocket of his jeans.

Your eyes rivet themselves at the way he avoids your penetrating gaze, sniffling as you sleeve your arms in the holes of his parka. "That's essentially the point of getting a girlfriend, isn't it? Looking at only one person?"

Atsumu sighs, tilting his head skyward as you watch his throat bob with uncertainty. "God, and I had the guts to say I didn't wanna make the same mistakes." 

You know, for one, that he doesn't have the most remarkable track record with his previous girlfriends. Atsumu has never cheated on any of them, but everyone knows that he tires easily and he never really concealed that fact. But even if you feel like the stunt he pulled earlier should be a red flag indicating that his old habits are still there, you couldn't bring yourself to condemn him for it. 

Because getting into a relationship with another person means that you'll see through their growth alongside them, instead of casting them aside once a threat to your own emotional investment surfaces. 

The musky scent that clings to his parka grants you some semblance of comfort, and no longer do you find yourself aching with the need to uncoil the emotions that are brewing in your chest. You stare at the boy in front of you with a fondness that's almost too hopeful.

You knew it. You knew that Miya Atsumu is no knight in shining armor. He's not the saint with a wellspring of understanding that he tried to convince you he was, nor is he the martyr who would take every blow to his pride without breaking face. 

Just like Osamu said, he's still the asshole that you all know and love—in a good way. And you tell yourself that wanting him to be anything else doesn't equate to wanting him at all because he wouldn't really be Atsumu if he doesn't make a few mistakes. 

"You know," you begin, fiddling with the sleeves of his parka, "you don't have to be perfect, 'Tsumu. You don't have to act as if I'll bail out on you the moment you fuck up. That mindset just kind of implies that you think I'm incapable of fucking up when in fact I think I did you even dirtier." 

He stares at you, lips parted slightly as confusion dances across his features. "So…ya _don't_ want me to stop looking at other girls?"

"Dumbass." You roll your eyes. "Of course I’d prefer it if you didn’t ogle unsuspecting women. But what I'm trying to say is that you don't have to be so afraid of making a few mistakes. We're all human, 'Tsumu. We're nothing if we don't mess things up every now and then."

"Heh. That's kinda profound of you." His mouth curves into a knowing smirk, and that's when you know that the situation has been resolved. "Pretty cheesy if ya ask me, though." 

Ignoring his thoughtless remark, you hesitantly hold out your hand, still unsure if he wants to engage in such a gesture after this conversation. But Atsumu laces his fingers with your own without another word, that sneer morphing into a gentle, lopsided smile that makes your heart pang fondly in your ribcage. 

"Hey, do you remember where I parked the stupid car?"


	9. Chapter 9

"I seriously can't believe this guy!" 

You quirk an eyebrow at the exasperated tone that Atsumu's voice carries as he slides something across the table you've claimed for yourself in the library. The familiar lettering for Volleyball Monthly greets your vision with prominent swashes of navy blues and oranges.

When you flick your gaze back up, you can see that Atsumu's face is twisted with annoyance as he practically puts holes into the cover where an even more familiar setter is sprawled across the cover page. 

"Those assholes invited Tobio, but not me?" he huffs, crossing his arms over his puffed out chest. "They've been interviewin' me for months but ya never seen _me_ make it on the front page!"

A moment of silence passes by as you stare at him, unbelieving. "'Tsumu, I've got finals tomorrow. Are you really interrupting me while I'm studying just because you're pissed that you didn't make it as cover boy?"

For a split second, Atsumu's face falls and he unintentionally gives you the puppy eyes. But, ever the one to keep up appearances, he immediately schools his expression back to its former irritation. "Aren't ya s'posed to be comfortin' me or somethin'?" 

"Didn't you say you hated it when the folks from Volleyball Monthly tried to get scoops on you in the past?" you question him, putting your pencil down with a pointed look on your face. "I think I remember you saying something along the lines of them 'being worse than a colony of cockroaches' since they bothered you so much." 

His cheeks are tinged pink when you point that out. "T-That's different! Ya don't have to talk as much when doing a damn photo shoot." 

"Hmm?" You pretend to invest yourself in the state of your nails to spite him. "When did you ever pass up on a chance to talk about yourself, 'Tsumu?"

"When those annoying reporters from the stupid magazine hound me for my workout regimen!" he practically squawks, inciting the fury of the elderly librarian tucked behind the counter beside you, who tells Atsumu to lower his voice or get out. 

"Atsumu," is your stern warning. "I swear, if you spend another minute keeping me from memorizing these formulas, I'm going to kick your ass." 

Any other person would have called a bluff on that one, but Atsumu knows not to take your words lightly especially when you're preoccupied with something important. Admitting defeat, he mumbles some incoherent and most likely offensive nonsense under his breath, turns on his heel, and promptly exits the library altogether.

You only feel the tiniest bit guilty when a sigh of relief makes its way past your lips at his absence. Just as you were about to get back to work, however, your eyes drift off to the magazine Atsumu left behind.

Kageyama Tobio. It's a name you've been hearing since you were in middle school, and the word-of-mouth was certainly warranted. He's a genius of his own right—some of his plays are definitely more tactical than Atsumu's, if you daresay. You've watched tape-recorded matches where he participates but you've never actually seen him with your own eyes. 

Still, Atsumu had a point. No high-schooler apart from Ushijima has made it on the cover of Volleyball Monthly. Your fingers graze the glossy surface, tracing the outline of his flawless form as he was frozen in a position that suggested that he was about to make a risky-looking set. 

"And he's only a second year," you murmur to yourself, brows knit in confusion. 

For a moment, you became distracted from your prior agenda, pulling your phone out from the pocket of your jacket with the intention of doing a little snooping around with that Kageyama. But before you could even type his name on the search bar, your plans are thwarted by the sound of someone clearing their throat from behind you. 

"Hey, (Name)! Can you help me with this one problem in our activity sheet? I'm kinda lost..."

You turn around to face one of your classmates with a gentle smile. "Sure," you tell her as you slowly pocket your phone once more.

Well, your investigation can wait. 

* * *

"And that's another no-touch service ace from Inarizaki's Miya Atsumu!" 

The howl of onlookers seated far behind you roars in your ears as a wobbly smile spreads across your lips. On-court, Atsumu rolls his eyes but doesn't protest against the audience's vigor—something he wouldn't even consider doing if he was still the same, unnecessarily competitive player from last year.

You tell yourself that you should feel a little more proud of him, but when the referee shucks the volleyball back into Atsumu's direction for his sixth serve in a row, the thump of your heart against your rib cage is enough to send shivers across your skin.

"He's on a roll today, ain't he?" Coach Kurosu blurts from where he's seated beside you, eyes transfixed on one of the most seasoned players he's trained. "Did ya tell him the scouts are watchin' 'im today?"

When Atsumu's palm collides with the volleyball, the sound makes you flinch. Regardless, you answer the coach's query with a subtle shake of your head. "No. I'm kind of sure that he's only into it since he found out Karasuno is Miyagi's representative for the Spring Interhigh. He didn't get to 'settle the score' in the last tourney." 

The older man lets out a sound that's part-sigh, part-laugh. "Atsumu's still got a bone to pick with that Kageyama, huh?" 

"You have _no_ idea, coach," you say with a groan upon remembering the sudden influx of various high school sports articles being shoved into your face. You can only imagine how Atsumu acquired the paparazzi gene out of nowhere. He's one of the last people you'd expect would pay the gossip circulating around the volleyball scene any mind, after all.

Ever since that time Kageyama was printed on the front cover of Volleyball Monthly, your boyfriend has never once shut up about the matter. If you're being honest with yourself, you're one outburst away from bribing Osamu into cancelling his brother's subscription to that stupid sports magazine. 

"It's a nice rivalry, the one those meatheads have," Coach Kurosu's lips are stretched into a small yet amused smile. "Ya haven't met Kageyama in person, now have ya?" 

You take a moment to think about it, forcing yourself not to vent out your frustration once you place your thoughts in order. "I was sick when they first played Karasuno. 'Tsumu never really stopped talking about the guy for weeks when they lost though. Is he really that good, coach?" 

"One of the most promisin' boys I've seen in my lifetime," he replies so solemnly that you're actually taken aback. "If they win today, the odds of us running into them crows is more likely than you can imagine." 

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" you ask jokingly, but the coach seems to be taking your query into consideration, still. 

"Who knows?" He chuckles, easing a crick in his neck. "I've never really seen that Atsumu look like he's actually enjoyin' the game apart from the time I saw 'im playin' with Kageyama. A worthy opponent is the best motivation some players can have." 

Oddly enough, you can see where Coach Kurosu was coming from. It's true that ever since their loss against Karasuno, Atsumu certainly improved his sportsmanship. You didn't really pay it any mind at the time, since you were nothing else but happy with the fact that he's finally beginning to act like less of a prick on-court. Who knew that there was actually a catalyst for that development? 

For a moment, your brain blanks out, and you're only snapped out of your reverie when the crowd gasps collectively at the sight of the opposing team finally managing to return Atsumu's serve. But you aren't concerned with the fact that Inarizaki's players were so surprised that none of them were able to dive in for a save because of another lingering thought:

What was the catalyst for Atsumu's sudden confession all those months ago? 

* * *

It takes you a week after the events of the playoffs to bring it up. Not because you were putting off talking about it, really. The reason pretty much lies in the fact that Atsumu may have gotten the attention he's been (secretly) craving from the press.

It's no surprise that Inarizaki is this year's representative for the Spring Interhigh, but his momentum apparently caught the eyes of a lot of scouts who watched his plays for the whole week. What's more is that he wasn't even made aware of their presence in the stands during the entirety of the matches, which gives him all the right to be smug about his performance. 

Though you may have felt a bite of sulking when he was too busy meeting up with various scouts from big shot universities from all over Japan to spend time with you, you're proud of him and what he's accomplished. As someone who's been there since the beginning, you can trust your own words when you say that Atsumu's proud attitude is completely warranted. 

But as his reputation as an athlete continues to grow, so does that feeling of uncertainty that lurks in your heart. It's not that you don't trust Atsumu when he told you he loves you, but...

"You okay?" Atsumu says, visibly startling you. "I'm usually not one ta point it out when you're bein' quiet, but I've a feelin' that somethin's on your mind." 

You blink at him a few times before you manage to form a coherent answer. "Um, yeah. Sorry." In the next second, your eyes drift back to the untouched okonomiyaki sitting right in front of you. To your left, Osamu and Ginjima are bickering about what mayonnaise brand goes best with Katsura's okonomiyaki while Suna took up the post as their mediator. To your right, your boyfriend is studying you with rapt attention, golden eyes not missing a beat in your body language. 

Expectantly, he asks, "Well?" 

With a fleeting glance to the other boys seated across the counter, you decide that they're too caught up in their own banter to take note of your obvious unease. It's probably safe enough to talk about it, right?

"Atsumu, how long have you had...romantic feelings for me?" Oh, god. This is awkward. 

He stops chewing his food for a moment, caught off guard by your question. Nonetheless, he clears his throat, swallows thickly, and morphs his expression into something more composed. "A while. What brought it up?" 

A pout settles on your lips. "That isn't very specific." 

Atsumu actively avoids your inquisitive gaze, ruminating about how he's going to answer. But it's as if he decided to throw his embarrassment out of the window at the last minute when he turns to face you, not twenty seconds since he looked away. "I've liked ya since we were first years. Okay?" 

Your eyes widen only by a fraction, but they do. Ignoring the sensation that flutters in your chest, you follow your query with, "T-Then, why'd you only act on it now? What changed?" 

He lets out a soft yet strained chuckle as he toys with his food on the stove. "Let's just say that if I didn't act soon, I wouldn't get the chance to for a long time." 

For some reason, his answer doesn't sit well with you. You don't even know what that could possibly even mean, but the way Atsumu said it with such melancholy is something to ponder on. He's not one to openly show when he's genuinely sad about something, after all. 

But before you can press him any further, his phone buzzes in the pocket of his track jacket. Surprised, he takes it out and lets out a tired-sounding sigh once he reads the notification. 

"I have ta go," he declares, slinging his gym bag across his shoulder as he hops off his seat. "'Samu, cover my food will ya?"

"Pay for it, yourself, jackass," Osamu scoffs. "Where do ya need to be at this hour anyway?" 

Atsumu's gaze flicks back to you for a split second, carrying something akin to remorse. You would have missed it if you weren't watching him so intently. Your face contorts with concern, but you decide against pointing it out, given that he's in such a hurry to leave.

"Matsuhara-san's invitin' me for dinner. The coach will whoop my ass if I turn 'im down again." 

"Wait," you interrupt before you could even think. " _The_ Matsuhara Koichi is inviting you for dinner?" 

"Isn't he that guy that scouts players for the national team?" Suna chips in, eyebrows raised. "Damn, I know you're good but I didn't know you were _that_ good in their eyes." 

Normally, Atsumu would have taken advantage of the praise to appease his own ego. But this time, he only lets out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head as he keeps his phone. Before he leaves, however, he leans closer to you before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. 

"I'm sorry. 'Samu's gonna walk you home, okay?" he tells you with a lopsided smile. 

Atsumu bids his farewell to the rest of the boys and even Katsura-san, who was dozing off behind the counter. Then, when he's finally far enough out of earshot, Ginjima blurts out, "He's actin' weird." 

"Right?" Suna agrees with a sour look on his face. "I hate it when he's being a pain-in-the-ass but it's even more irritating when he's acting out of character." 

Osamu, however, opts to keep his silence—quietly finishing the rest of his own pancake while you couldn't even bring yourself to touch yours. Your gaze narrows at the silver-haired twin, and the way he instinctively squares his shoulders makes you aware that he knows you're onto him. 

Oh, you are _so_ onto him. 

* * *

"Thanks for walking me home," you tell Osamu as you place a cup of tea in front of him on the coffee table. "And, um, sorry. Do you have to be anywhere right now? You know how Mom gets all agitated if guests don't get served tea when they come over." 

Osamu shakes his head. "I don't mind. Auntie's tea leaves are good anyway. Is she still growing them in the back?"

"Yeah." You find yourself grinning slightly. "You haven't been here in forever but you still remember?" 

"As if we didn't spend half our lives helping her tend to the garden," he says, rolling his eyes as he takes his first sip.

You huff, plopping yourself next to him before switching on the TV. "If I remember correctly, Atsumu is the asshole between the both of you." 

"He ain't here now is he?" 

Letting out a long breath, you let Osamu have the last word as you mindlessly browsed through the channels—more to quell the unrest that's grappling across your skin than anything. A dozen questions linger on your tongue but you don't know which you should go with first.

The fact that Osamu is a perceptive person doesn't cater to your sanity either. You just _know_ that he can tell how unnerved you are, but you appreciate how he just lets you collect yourself first. 

After five or so minutes, you toss the remote to your side before asking, "What do you know that I don't?" 

If you asked such a broad question to Atsumu, he would have given an answer that would only serve to infuriate you. Osamu, however, is the more reasonable of the twins and doesn't usually believe in the concept of being a smartass in conversations. But that doesn't guarantee that you'll get a straight up answer, still. 

"It's not my place ta tell," he says. 

"Why not?" 

A twinge of hesitation flashes across his face, which is entirely uncharacteristic of him, and that only fuels your curiosity even further. You purse your lips together, wondering how you're going to get him to talk. 

"Does... Does it have something to do with him meeting up with Matsuhara Koichi?" Your voice is too quiet for your own liking, but at least you got the message across. 

Osamu is silent for a while, but once he empties his teacup, he tells you, "Do you know how that guy grooms aspiring national team athletes?" 

"Of course," is your immediate response. "He scouts promising high schoolers and provides them with a separate allowance in whatever university they want to go to. But there's always one athlete that'll get to study in Tokyo so he can hone their skills even more... _o_ _h_." 

The boy beside you offers you a smile that you know is meant to offer you some semblance of comfort. But when the reality of what's going to happen in just a few months if Atsumu continues making more tick marks on his track record dawns on you, it's as if an anvil was dropped in the bottom of your stomach. 

"Ya didn't hear anythin' from me," Osamu clarifies before getting up to gather his own gym bag. "But if I were you, I'd go up and talk to him about it. Atsumu's thick-skinned but he does tend ta chicken out on important stuff." 

When the front door slams closed from Osamu's exit, the sound rings in your ears far longer than you think it should. A soft ache settles itself in your temples at how the pieces are beginning to fit. But for every answer you put together, another question arises.

Why didn't they tell you about Atsumu catching Matsuhara Koichi's attention? What reason do they have to hide it? What's going to happen if he turns out to be the lucky athlete that'll go to Tokyo for college? 

"(Name)? Sweetie? Has Osamu left already?" 

The sound of your mother's voice (thankfully) shatters your train of thought. She pokes her head from the kitchen to check up on you, but you know from the crease that forms on her brow that she can tell you're upset. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" she offers with a sweet smile, but you shake your head.

"Thanks Mom, but... I'll just sleep this off." 

When you manage to drag yourself into the solitude of your own room, you spare the picture frame that's sitting on your nightstand a longing look. It's been years since it was taken; graduation day in junior high as your arms were linked in the twins'. The sight makes your chest constrict with an indecipherable feeling, which you decide to ignore by crashing into bed face-first. 

The entirety of your evening is spent wondering whether or not satisfying your curiosity was worth it, and the routine is only interrupted when your phone rings with a text notification. 

**_Atsumu [10:25 P.M.]_ **

hey i just got home

**_You [10:25 P.M.]_ **

Hi. How was dinner?

**_Atsumu [10:27 P.M.]_ **

p good actually. i know where im takin ya on our next date

**_You [10:28 P.M.]_ **

'Tsumu, you're a high school student w/o a source of income. Don't take your girlfriend to some fancy restaurant just 'cause.

**_Atsumu [10:30 P.M.]_ **

fiiine

**_Atsumu [10:30 P.M.]_ **

can i atleast do that when i go pro tho? 

**_Atsumu [11:15 P.M.]_ **

hello? 

**_Atsumu [11:18 P.M.]_ **

y are u ignoring me

**_You [11:20 P.M.]_ **

Hey, do you have something you're not telling me? 

**_Atsumu [11:25 P.M.]_ **

y do u ask? 

**_You [11:37 P.M.]_ **

Ah, it's nothing. Good night, 'Tsumu.

**_Atsumu [11:37 P.M.]_ **

:(

**_Atsumu [11:37 P.M.]_ **

pls dont be mad 

**_Atsumu [11:40 P.M.]_ **

i swear i didnt drop osamus toothbrush in the toilet without tellin him again

**_Atsumu [12:03 A.M.]_ **

damn u really are upset huh

**_Atsumu [12:04 A.M.]_ **

lets talk abt it tomorrow ok? 

**_Atsumu [12:04 A.M.]_ **

good night.


	10. Chapter 10

"Senpai, are you alright?" Riseki wonders out loud, probing you from your seated form by the bleachers. 

"Huh?" You removed the arm that was covering your eyes, stretching your cramped up muscles from the uncomfortable sleeping position you were in. "Oh. Yeah, I'm okay, Riseki. Just feeling a bit under the weather is all." 

The crease that forms between his brows only serves to tell you that you didn't do a good job at convincing the wing spiker. Well, how could you when there's a killer migraine that's settling itself in your temples, making your head throb in more ways than one? 

"You sure?" he asks, arms crossed. "I could call Atsumu-senpai and tell him to bring you to the infirma—"

"That won't be necessary!" is your immediate response as you get back up on your feet. "I'm serious. I'm fine. I've never been better!" 

Riseki frowns at you. "Senpai, you've done enough for us. It wouldn't do you any harm to take a break."

"I told you, I'm _fine_ —"

"Got any problems here?" 

You nearly yelp at the sound of Atsumu's gruff voice interfering with your conversation. Thankfully, you manage to contain your surprise to a minimum, and your boyfriend barely notices that you were startled. Putting on your brave face, you turn to him. "It's all good, 'Tsumu. Riseki is just looking out for me." 

"But, senpai!" Riseki protests once more, his words directed at Atsumu. Damn. This kid is persistent. "(Name)-senpai looks like she's about to pass out any second." 

Atsumu cocks an eyebrow at Riseki's proclamation. In the next moment, his golden eyes pin themselves on your figure, casually observing you from head-to-toe. He places a hand on his chin for a more dramatic flair and hums. "You've been staying longer for the student council meetings than you let on, weren't you?" is the conclusion that he draws in just one glance.

Your first instinct is to deny it like you usually did. As long as you can manage what's on your plate, you didn't necessarily need anyone fussing over you. That's the way things have always been. But for some reason, you aren't able to keep up appearances as well as you used to. Man, _senioritis_ is real, isn't it? 

When Atsumu stares you down sulkily, you figure that there's no use trying to cover up the fact that you're absolutely exhausted. Out of the blue, your eyes meander off into the distance where the rest of the boys are doing some pre-training burpees and from the way Suna is practically dying already, they're probably on their last set.

These boys devote themselves to the sport they love whilst breaking the limits of their stamina. Your workload doesn't even hold a candle to all the strain that training puts on their bodies so you really have no right to feel so drained. 

"Hey." Atsumu snaps his fingers in front of your face. "Setsuna's been overworking you again, ain't she? That bitch."

"'Tsumu," you scold, "don't call the Prez like that." 

"Prez, schmez. All she's been doin' is ordering people around to do the work that she's supposed to be doin'. You ain't even officially part of the student council, but you've pitched in more effort on the Winter Ball than she did!" he scoffed, his face contorted with annoyance. 

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you try to tame the headache that's worsening by the minute. In the corner of your eye, you could see that Riseki looks as if he wants out of the conversation but can't find the opportune time to make his exit. You gesture for him to get back to where the rest of the boys are. Fortunately, he picks up on your body language and excuses himself right after. 

Now you're alone with Atsumu.

"Look," you begin, "I'm just having a little migraine because I wasn't able to get lots of sleep last night. This isn't something I can't handle—"

"Your voice is raspy."

"What?"

"Ya always get sick the next day whenever your voice starts ta sound like that," Atsumu explains with an undercurrent that suggests he's appalled you aren't informed of this. 

You stare at him incredulously for a moment before attempting to stifle the snort that comes out of your mouth. "S-Sorry, 'Tsumu. That just sounded a little silly." 

"It ain't _silly_ ," he insists, his frigid demeanour showing no signs of faltering. "You get sick so often. Why haven't ya noticed?"

"The real question is why did _you_ even notice something so trivial?"

"It's 'cause I love you, god damn it!"

The volume of Atsumu's voice is loud enough that the sound bounced across the high ceilings of the gym. From the other side of the court, the boys halt their ministrations, shooting the two of you weird looks and you want nothing else but to be spared from the awkward silence that permeates the air. But aside from suddenly becoming the center of attention, you couldn't exactly wrap your head around what Atsumu just said. 

He…loves you? 

Well, of course he loves you. It's the bottomline for his confession months ago.

If he didn't, he wouldn't even last this long with no certainty for reciprocation. He wouldn't take all the risks he's taken thus far in an attempt to win your heart. He wouldn't let you be familiar with sides of him that he didn't want anyone else to see. 

But still. Hearing the words out loud has a more distinct effect on you compared to simply _knowing_. Your heart picks up at an unreasonable rate and you purse your lips into a thin line to prevent yourself from making any weird noises. The flare of concern in his golden eyes does nothing to strengthen your resistance either and you nearly forget why you're trying to pick a fight with him in the first place. 

"Okay, let's make a deal," you offer, flopping your arms across your chest. "If I go down with a fever tomorrow, I'll take a day off—"

"A week off," he bargains.

Your gaze narrows into slits. " _Two_ days off—"

"Three." 

"Fine. I'll take _three_ days off," you relent, albeit hesitantly. "But if I turn out to be fine, you're going to treat me to some ramen."

Atsumu rolls his eyes. "Deal." 

"You're awfully confident," you tease. 

"That's 'cause I _know_ yer gonna get sick. I'm bettin' to win." 

"Hmph." You match the intensity of his gaze. "Bring it on."

* * *

"Mom?" you call out weakly from your makeshift bed in the living room. "Can I have some more umeboshi?"

"Oh, honey, you just finished the last of it." Your mother stares at you with pleading eyes, coming right by your side to stroke your hair. "I had someone get more from the store. Could you wait a bit longer?" 

You sniffle, trying to prevent any more strings of snot from dripping down your nose. "Yeah. That sounds good to me. Thank you—ow!"

"What is it that Atsumu's been telling me about, young lady?" your mother suddenly quips as you rub the spot where she lightly spanked your forehead. "You overworked yourself again? (Name), you know you're already doing more than enough for the team and your studies. You don't have to shoulder the jobs of others, too." 

"That traitor…" you mumble, plotting all the possible ways you could murder Atsumu in your head. 

"No. That boy is no traitor, sweetie. He's keen enough to know that you get sick the next day after your voice starts to sound a bit scratchy—"

"Wait, what?" You whip your head to face her almost too abruptly. "You mean it's true then? It isn't just a coincidence that 'Tsumu's right about that?" 

Your mother smiles sweetly, caressing your feverish face with her feather-light touch. "Don't you find it odd how quick you always recover even though you get sick so often? It's because I can tell when you're already going to break down. Besides, I love you. It's natural for me to know things like that." 

_It's 'cause I love you, god damn it!_

"Oh," is all that comes out of your mouth. "That…that makes a lot of sense." 

She nods before getting back up on her feet. "Can you promise me you'll try not to do other people's work for them just because you can do it better?" 

Flustered, you snuggle up deeper into your comforter. "Fine."

"And that's enough for me, sweetie." She smiles, but then her words are followed by the sound of the doorbell ringing across the house. "Oh. I'll get that." 

When she departs from the living room, you heave a tired sigh; immersing yourself to the frigid sensation that's covering the entirety of your body. Atsumu's words are slowly getting to you, and man, he's right. You _do_ get sick often. Last night, you were dead-set to prove him wrong by going to sleep early, but your plans were thwarted when Setsuna rang you up just before you were about to head off to dreamland. 

The student council president called to raise some concerns about the catering partner that the secretary booked for the Winter Ball, but she was out of the country so Setsuna had you talk to the owner instead. Long story short, you spent a good hour arguing with the owner partly because of how late you were calling him but mostly since he's giving unreasonable prices for a school-wide event. 

Now here you are, subject to three days off of any sort of work at your own word. 

"'Sup, stupid." 

The warmth that sears your chest at the sound of Atsumu's voice is something that takes you by surprise. When his tall form appears from the doorway of the living room, you scramble to your feet so you could run up to him and enclose your boyfriend in a tight embrace... At least, that was the plan until you accidentally stub your toe on the coffee table, causing you to topple back down on the sofa. 

"Fuck!" you cursed through gritted teeth as you clutch your foot in a pathetic attempt to alleviate the pain. 

"Language," you can hear your mother reprimand. "Atsumu, care to watch over her for a while?"

"Sure, auntie. I'll hold down the fort while you're gone." Your boyfriend grins. 

Once she's secured Atsumu's word, your mother bid you farewell with a kiss on your forehead and a promise that she'll be back in a few hours. The whole time it took for your mother to walk from the living room and out of the door, your eyes simply follow her until it closed behind her—leaving you alone with the bane of your existence, himself.

"What are you even doing here, 'Tsumu?" You do a double-take on him, taking note of the fact that he's still wearing Inarizaki's uniform. "Classes aren't over yet."

Your boyfriend shrugs, tossing a plastic bag onto your lap. "Didn't feel like going." 

When you rummage through the bag, you realize that it's a pack of umeboshi from a nearby convenience store. Swallowing thickly, you opt to ignore the fluttering sensation in your chest so you could eye him with apprehension.

"Just what will your parents say if they find out you're playing hooky?" you pout, slowly opening the packaging of what he brought you. 

He lifts his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. "I'll tell 'em I felt sick." 

"Ditto." 

"Whatever. Wanna Smash?" At the same time he asks, the first piece of umeboshi you shovelled into your mouth went down the wrong hole, reducing you to a hacking mess. 

" _W-What_?" you manage to breathe out in between coughs. 

Atsumu doesn't seem to be aware that he's the reason you choked on your food since he's already in front of your TV, tinkering with its settings. "Hey, where's your Switch?" 

You could only stare at him, dumbfounded, as he rummaged through the nearby drawers for your Switch. So _that's_ what he meant.

"Top drawer on the left," you mumble, facing away from him as you attempt to calm the blush that's creeping up your cheeks. 

Once Atsumu gets Super Smash Bros running on the television screen, he plops down beside you on the sofa and hands you the other controller—still painfully oblivious to the stress he just caused you. 

"Aren't you supposed to take care of me?" you ask dryly when you take the controller from him.

"I am." He smirks. "Takin' care of you and wreckin' you in Smash are the same thing, right?" 

"Oh, dear god."

"Huh? What'd ya say?" 

"Nothing!" 


	11. Chapter 11

The three promised days pass by in a blink of an eye—each one spent in Atsumu's company **.**

Though he agreed to your terms, your boyfriend still seemed pretty reluctant about letting you do as you please once more. It's as if he just knows that now that you're all better, the first thing you would do is to hurl yourself in whatever work that needs to be done; whether it be for the volleyball team, the student council, or even your own studies. 

"I ain't lettin' you set foot outside unless you promise me that you're not gonna overwork yourself again," he proclaims stubbornly, blocking the doorway to your house with his towering stature. 

Osamu shoots his brother a weird look before saying, "(Name) is old enough ta make her own choices y'know."

"Shut up, shitty 'Samu," Atsumu retaliates. "The last time I left her alone to do as she pleased, she wound up sick!"

"Atsumu," you plead, tugging lightly at his sweater vest. "I promise I won't overwork myself, okay? Now quit picking a fight with your brother and let's just head out." 

The silver-haired twin chuckles, his mouth curving into a lopsided smirk; to which your boyfriend reacts by clicking his tongue in annoyance and punching the other boy lightly in the chest. From the looks of it, Atsumu seems to have some impudent remark in mind, but before he could even open his mouth, your attention is snagged away by something else.

"Oi." 

Startled, the three of you whip your heads towards the newcomer that's walking by the block. There, your old captain, Kita, eyes you with an inscrutable look in his typical, Kita fashion as if it hasn't been months since you've seen him last—

"Kita-san!" Atsumu practically bellows as he runs towards the older boy and throws his arms around him in an embrace. "What're you doin' here?"

Kita stares at the blond distastefully but doesn't reprimand him for his forwardness. "Oba-san hasn't been feelin' well lately. I figured I'd take a week off so I could take care of her." For a moment, he relents and pats your boyfriend's head before turning to Osamu. "Hey, have you told 'em?" 

"Told us what?" Your brow furrows at his words, gaze alternating between Kita and Osamu.

Atsumu disentangles himself from the older boy to cast him an inquisitive look, as well. He then turns to his brother with furrowed brows. "Yeah. Told us _what_?"

Something in Osamu's typically nonchalant expression shifts, but it isn't obvious enough for you to pinpoint how exactly he's reacting to Kita's inquiry. He clears his throat, actively evading the former captain's hawk-like gaze. 

"No…I haven't," is all he tells him in reply. 

Kita considers his answer for a moment and you can't tell how he's taking it, as usual. He's always been hard to read; even Osamu's more expressive than this guy. But you suppose that's just how Kita is as a person—someone who's more reserved with his emotions than most. 

"I see," he says, voice as smooth as silk. "I'll be seein' you around then." 

Without even as much as a nod in your direction, Kita continues walking past your house and off to where he was initially headed; leaving the three of you dumbfounded at his exit. 

"Been ages since I've seen 'im. Glad he seems ta be doin' good." Atsumu breathes out, but the smile he donned when he ran up to Kita immediately dissolves when he shoots his twin brother a petrifying glare. "Soooo, 'Samu. What is it that you ain't tellin' me?"

"None of your business," Osamu grumbles, brushing past Atsumu in a way that suggests that he really doesn't want to discuss the matter. 

"But—"

"Hey," you chide the blond, placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him from pestering Osamu. "'Samu usually tells us when something's up, right? Can't you just wait until he comes up to us and spills the details on his own?" 

The two of you could only watch in silence as Osamu carries on walking without waiting for you to catch up. You shift your line of sight to Atsumu, whose face is contorted with a mix of annoyance and betrayal. Though it may seem like a childish reaction from an outsider's point of view, you completely understand why he must be feeling this way. 

It isn't really a bluff whenever Atsumu says he and Osamu never keep anything from each other. From the size of their underwear to the number of girls they've kissed, the twins are aware of each factor that makes up their lives—down to the tiniest, insignificant detail. It's always been that way since you were children, and though you're practically their closest friend, you respect that they have certain details they'd like to keep exclusive to themselves as brothers. 

It almost never really happens, but each instance where one of them tries to hide something is always instigated by Osamu. You figure it's because he's more reticent than his twin brother and prefers not to burden others with his problems. But your analysis of other people's way of thinking could only do so much...

With a sigh, you tug your sulking boyfriend along once you notice you're about to be late for school. But at the back of your mind, you're hoping that whatever it is that's bothering Osamu, he'll be more forthcoming about it; not necessarily to _you_ , but to his brother at least. 

* * *

"(Name)-san~" 

Cue the perpetually tired sigh that's practically become a habit whenever you hear Setsuna's too high-pitched voice. You're in the middle of fixing your things so you could head to volleyball practice when the student council president swoops down on you like a falcon. You mutter a silent prayer to whatever gods are listening just so that she would leave you be for _once_. 

"Hey, Prez," you greet her dryly. "What's up?" 

Setsuna smiles kindly, which makes it all the more difficult to turn her away. "I heard you got sick these past few days! Oh, you poor thing!" Her bottom lip juts into a pout as she takes your hands in hers. Man, are rich girls' hands always _this_ smooth—

"Setsuna." 

You're convinced that the relief that's flooding you is borderline criminal when you hear Atsumu intruding on the conversation from behind you. Turning around rather abruptly, you mouth a quick _thank you_ to him for intercepting the situation. Knowing you, you aren't sure if you would've been able to reject her if she asked you to do something for the council again.

"Hmm? What is it that you need, Miya-san?" Setsuna cocks her head to the side.

Atsumu then puts on a face you've only seen him make during the era where he constantly picked up girls. He lifts the corner of his mouth just enough to tease, but not quite enough to form a smile. You could've sworn your heart stuttered for a moment at the sight. 

"Say, (Name) isn't really part of the council, right?" he asks with a concerned undercurrent to his voice. "Ya see, Coach Kurosu's kinda pissed that she's got her attention divided between the team and organising the Winter Ball. So would it be alright if you let her off for a while?" 

Setsuna blinks, her face taking on a redder tinge the moment Atsumu stops talking. Damn it! What is it with your boyfriend and his innate talent for making the female population swoon from his words alone? He didn't even say anything relatively flirtatious!

"I-I didn't know you had a conflict with your responsibilities, (Name)-san! I'm so, so sorry." Embarrassed, the president lets go of your hands, brushing a tuft of hair behind her ear. "The reason I keep coming to you is because…no one else in the council is competent enough to handle the intricacies of event-organising. And the way you manage the volleyball team is amazing, so I thought I could rely on you to do it…" 

Great. Now you're the one with the unreasonable blush.

"Prez, it really is no big deal. Honest," is what you choose to say in an attempt to make her feel less bad as you rub her back. "But you see, I promised someone that I would quit doing the jobs of other people. They're worried about me as is already since I got sick, so I don't want to give them any more reasons to." 

Even if you aren't directly looking at him, you can feel the weight of Atsumu's gaze penetrating into your being. You bite the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from grinning like an idiot. 

Thankfully, Setsuna nods in understanding. "Yes, yes. I really am sorry for shoving the workload onto your plate."

"You'd be doing those chumps—uh, those other members a huge favor if you called 'em out for slacking off, y'know," Atsumu adds, folding his arms across his chest. "Jeez, why'd they even join the council if they're ain't even gonna do shit." 

"'Tsumu," you scold him with a light smack on his shoulder. "Don't mind him, Prez. He's kinda rash with his wording, like, ninety percent of the time." 

"Hey! That ain't true." 

"You _know_ it is, shitty 'Tsumu!"

Your banter is cut off by the sound of Setsuna giggling into her palm, and you end up shooting her a bizarre look.

"The two of you make a great couple, no?" She sighs, twirling a strand of her hair around one finger. "I wish I had someone that constantly watches over me like that… Ah, look at the time! Thank you for talking some sense into me, Miya-san, (Name)-san. I'll take my leave now."

Without even waiting for your response, Setsuna skips happily out of the classroom, leaving you alone with your boyfriend. Though it was probably more of an observation than a compliment on her part, the president's words still unknowingly plant a gentle smile on your face. Who knew that being referred to as a couple could make you feel this…fuzzy inside? 

You shake your head, knowing that pondering about it too much won't do you any good. "Should we head to the—whoa. Are you _blushing_?" 

"No," Atsumu denies immediately, covering his face with the back of his hand. 

The thing about Atsumu is that, on the rare occasion that he becomes flustered by something, his entire face reddens like a beet. From his cheeks, all the way to the tips of his ears—his skin is dusted with a blush that's hard to forget once you've seen it the first time. His brows are knotted together in irritation at your amusement, but he doesn't do anything to make you stop. 

"Come here," you tell him, bearing your arms before you for a hug. 

"What? Why?" 

"God, Atsumu. The tsundere trope doesn't suit you. Just hug me already." 

Then he did.

The height difference between the two of you becomes even more prominent when you're locked in an embrace like this. Atsumu loves burying his face in the crook of your neck whenever he squeezes you tight in his muscular arms. But he isn't the only one who makes the most of moments like this.

When you're this close, you can take a whiff of the scent that clings to his uniform; letting you know that this stupid boy before you is the same person who's had your back all your life. With that in mind, you're able to relax even more into his touch, sighing as he begins tracing vague shapes on your clothed back.

"Oi, lovebirds!" Ginjima suddenly yells inside your empty classroom, his head popping from the doorway. "Are we gonna get goin' or what? Fukuzawa told me that the coach is in a baaaad mood." 

You sigh, disappointed that your time alone was cut short so abruptly. But you were never really one for testing Coach Kurosu's patience, so when Atsumu offers you his arm, you link it with your own before following Ginjima outside.

You'll find a chance to devote your time to Atsumu wholeheartedly. Eventually, at least. 


	12. Chapter 12

Another typical school day went about in Inarizaki High, and you decide to spend the lunch break inside your classroom with Atsumu. You were a little excited for it, too, since you packed a few bentos you prepared, yourself—a little thank you gift for your boyfriend given that he’d done great with taking care of you for the past few days. Atsumu was bugging you about what you were hiding in your bag since this morning too, but you chose to leave him wondering until this moment.

“Damn,” Atsumu moans, chewing his tonkatsu thoughtfully. “Auntie makes great bento.”

“ _I_ made that, you dumbass,” you sulk, breaking apart your chopsticks as you dig into your own lunch. “After I took hours to prepare that, too…” 

Your boyfriend laughs, patting your hair affectionately. “Aw, come on! I’m just not used to my pretty girlfriend preparing me lunch is all.”

You huff, looking away. “Is that your way of telling me you liked the girls who gave you bentos better?”

“(Name),” Atsumu drawls, pinching your cheeks to vex you further. “Don’t be like that. You know I love _you_ the most.”

“Oh my god, can you guys _please_ stop flaunting how happy you are?”

You whirl around to catch Shizuka pouting at the two of you from her chair a few places behind you. She has her phone on her desk, and from the way her earphones are plugged in one ear, she’s probably watching another one of her Asian dramas again.

“Are ya jealous, Shizuka?” Atsumu quips, almost snickering—given their initial track record together.

Shizuka rolls her eyes. “Just to be clear, I’m over you, Miya-san. I’m more than happy for (Name)-chan, but god, don’t you guys ever fight?”

“Oh, we have,” the setter says, grinning thoughtfully. “But since we’re Inarizaki’s power couple, of course, we resolved it together. Right, (Name)?”

Giving your boyfriend a petulant stare, you ask, “We’re Inarizaki’s _what_?” 

Atsumu’s shoulders slump at your refusal to play along and he sets down his bento before tousling his hair. “My point is,” he starts, narrowing his eyes at Shizuka, “that you should mind your own business, Shizuka.”

Your best friend snickers, shaking her head as she puts her other earbud back on. “Whatever you say, Miya-san.”

“You pick fights over the weirdest things, ‘Tsumu,” you laugh a few moments later, throwing a grain of rice at him. 

Atsumu pouts, flicking it off his hair with a single hand. “I was just takin’ advantage of the chance ta show off!”

This time, you’re the one who takes his cheek in between your fingers, squeezing his firm skin affectionately. “And what I’m saying is that you don’t have to.” When you pull away, Atsumu rubs his face sulkily as you mull over what Shizuka asked earlier.

Sure, you haven’t had any real fights with Atsumu aside from that little incident after the concert, but another matter is lingering in the back of your mind. To your disappointment, your boyfriend is yet to speak up about his future plans even if you’ve been waiting on him for days. If you bring it up, you’re sure it would have the potential to start an argument, and given that Atsumu was keeping it a secret from you for so long, he must be adamant to let you know. 

However, the more bites you take into your bento, the more your heart insists that you ask him. 

“Hey, ‘Tsumu,” you begin, voice almost too soft to hear.

Atsumu turns to you, brows knit inquisitively as he hums with a mouthful of rice. “Hm?”

You purse your lips together, your pulse humming with agitation. “Is...Matsuhara-san offering you a scholarship by any chance?”

There. You’ve said it in the most easygoing manner you can manage. Surely he won’t try to evade a cordial attempt at conversation, right?

“Mmm, it’s a secret,” he laughs as he tidies up the lunch you brought him before getting back to his feet. “Thanks for the fix, (Name). I’m just gonna drop by ‘Samu’s classroom. Tell me when you’re willing ta make a bento for me again, ‘kay?”

A frown finds its way to your lips as Atsumu maneuvers his way out of your seats. “Atsumu—”

“I’ll be back in a bit!”

With that, he’s already sliding the door behind him, giving you no leeway to pester him with the matter any further. 

* * *

Roughly a month has passed since that incident, and it's already finals week for Inarizaki's students. What's more is that, after weeks of gruelling training during the entirety of November, not only you, but also the boys of the volleyball team are presented with another challenge to overcome: passing exams.

"I'm literally going to die," Suna intones as he plops his tray on your shared lunch table. "What the fuck was that Calculus exam, huh? We're high schoolers, not Applied Math majors, damn it!"

"Huh?" Atsumu cranes his head as he chews a mouthful of rice and fatty tuna. "The hell are you talkin' about? Calculus was alright. Japanese Lit was Satan's spawn."

"It isn't my fault you can calculate derivatives but can't read for shit!"

"Atsumu, you had a hard time with _Japanese Lit_?" Ginjima gapes, momentarily distracted from his packed lunch. "Didn't your mom ever read ya old-timey fairy tales?"

"She did. 'Tsumu just falls asleep before our mom could even start readin'," is Osamu's contribution to the roasting session.

Atsumu swallows his food before scoffing at them. "Fuck off. Everyone's bad at at least one subject."

"Not (Name) though," Kosaku points out, nodding in your direction. "She got the third highest GPA in our whole year during prelims."

"What?" Atsumu whips his head back and forth between you and Kosaku. "Why didn't I know about that?"

You lightly hit your boyfriend's shoulder as you stuff your bento in your bag. "It's not that much of a big deal. That was just prelims. I could've flunked midterms for all I know."

"I don't think anyone who can tutor Riseki with Trig is capable of failin' midterms," Osamu says, downing the rest of his water bottle's contents with a look of contempt.

" _You're_ the one who tutored Riseki?" Suna leans over the table to shoot you an incredulous look. "Man, for people who hang out on a daily basis, we sure don't know what's up with each other."

"That was a paid service," you offer. "I didn't want you guys to fork over any cash."

"Do it for free, then."

"Not a chance in _hell_."

In the next moment, your group erupts into a flurry of rebuttals about your so-called tutorial service. The boys practically talk over you every time you try to explain that, not only did you not have enough time to host one-on-one tutorials with all of them, but they're capable of studying and passing with their own effort alone! As far as academics is concerned, Riseki is the only one on the team who's in danger of flunking for real.

"God, can all of you just shut up about all that?" Ginjima groans. "Midterms are over. Nothin' we can do now. So how about we just assume we all pass and think about where we'll all be after a year."

The table suddenly falls silent, all eyes glued to him.

"You're pretty goal-oriented, aren't ya, _captain_?" Kosaku taunts.

Suna rolls his eyes. "Please. He's just trying to find a chance to slip in the fact that he got scouted for a good school in Tokyo."

"You got scouted? _Already_?” Atsumu gasps, almost sounding offended. "My scouts aren't even responding to my e-mails, but you've got your future secured?"

You momentarily zone in on Atsumu’s response, suddenly recalling that he’s never once brought up any future plans with you since the last time you asked. In fact, he always seems to avoid the topic whenever you try to bring it up. 

(Yet he seems comfortable with talking about it with the others, regardless.)

"We get it, 'Tsumu, you're a volleyball meathead," Osamu quips. "Well, since Suna outed Gin already, I'ma just tell you guys that I'm probably just going to a nearby university."

"Same here," Kosaku and Suna agree at the same time.

"What about you, (Name)?" Ginjima turns to you, eyeing you quizzically. "Where're you headed for college?"

“I’m probably going to take sports med at Hyogo U,” you reply coolly, eyes darting to your boyfriend before slanting your gaze. “What about you, ‘Tsumu? Care to elaborate on what _your_ plans are?”

The silence that envelops the table borders on awkward, which is already a rare occurrence in itself. It was always good times and good memories between the six of you, but this is something you can’t overlook. From what you can see, the other boys already know what’s up.

So it’s just _you_ who’s left in the dark, huh.

When Atsumu _still_ doesn’t answer even in front of your friends, you abruptly rise to your feet with a noticeable weight in your movements. Your boyfriend looks up at you pleadingly, but frankly you’ve had enough. 

“If I’m not important enough for you to tell me, so be it,” you speak sharply, stepping out of your shared lunch table. Even as the rest of the boys call out for you, you don’t spare any of them a backwards glance. 

* * *

"And Kaede-san was actually having an affair with Akane-san’s husband," Shizuka whispers conspiratorially as she hands you another sheet of silken cloth, "I knew she was shady from the start!”

A chunk of Inarizaki's volunteer third years are currently preparing for the Winter Ball that's taking place in two days—putting up decorations, cleaning the gym, and the like. You and Shizuka were assigned to decorate the stage and you aren't doing too shabby a job, if you do say so yourself. 

"Shizuka, you watch too much of those soap operas," you say, unfurling the folded textile so you could use the staple gun in your hands to stick it to the stage in loose waves. 

Your best friend hums. "I might be, but at least I have a consistent form of entertainment!”

"Uh-huh." You rolled your eyes, getting up on your feet to stretch out your aching legs. "You should do something more productive, you know? Why not get into a sport?” 

Your friend stares at you like she isn't convinced you're being serious. But before Shizuka can begin running her mouth again, your quiet conversation is interrupted. 

"Comin' through, folks. We'd greatly appreciate it if y'all moved away from the stage for a sec!" Ginjima's voice can be heard bellowing as usual as a few of the boys from the volleyball team carried a massive display screen into the gym. You frown, tugging Shizuka's arm so you could give way to them. Why the tech company that Setsuna hired allowed students to handle that thing, you don't really know, but you're quite impressed with what the president has managed to set up this year. 

When they're done setting down the screen, Ginjima orders them to head back outside where they can help transfer the round tables and seats. But just before you and Shizuka can resume decorating the stage, your eyes catch Atsumu’s at a precise moment. 

Ever since you walked out on the guys the other day, neither of you have tried initiating conversation. Your morning walks to school were spent in eerie silence. In class, you both pretended that the other didn't exist in the same dimensional plane. You couldn't count how many times you said your thanks to the universe for the absence of volleyball practice, because then you would have to interact with him one way or another.

Going back to the present, Atsumu tears his gaze away before you could even make anything of it. Your hand instinctively reaches out for him, but you catch yourself before anyone can notice the mannerism. 

_Nope_ , you tell yourself firmly. _Not gonna talk to him._

"Hey, Earth to (Name)!"

You flinch at the sound of Shizuka's voice, turning around to meet her gaze. Her lips are quirked into a knowing grin that's almost smug. 

"Did you finally fight or something?" she simpers and you can't help but roll your eyes.

"Can we just get back to work?" you grumble, kneeling back in front of the stage to continue sticking the silk cloth onto it. 

She giggles in a way that's meant to taunt, but you decidedly tune out her laughter with each boom of the staple gun to make a point that you don't want to talk about it. What you love about her though, is that Shizuka doesn't intrude no matter how much she seems to want it.

"Take five, everyone!" Setsuna's voice echoes throughout the gym as she claps her hands to gain everyone's attention. "Vice President, Shu-san, rounded you all up some snacks! Meet us at the cafeteria if you'd like any!" 

Almost everyone drops what they're doing in exchange for a quick break once Setsuna takes her leave. Even Shizuka gets up, though she's just finished her packed lunch an hour ago.

"You sure you don't want anything, (Name)-chan?" she asks. "I could snag you a rice ball or something." 

You offer her a lopsided smile, shaking your head. "Nah. I'm good. Thank you, though."

"Mmkay. Suit yourself!"

When Shizuka makes a beeline towards the double doors of the gym, you quietly resume the previous task at hand. You're almost done covering the stage with the golden cloth, but you're still going to need another few yards to finish the job. When you stick in the last inch of the piece you're working on, you turn around to grab another sheet, only for it to be handed right to you. 

Then, you notice Atsumu staring at you with an indifferent look on his face as he holds out the sheet.

"Thanks," is your somewhat sincere reply. You carry on with what you were previously doing without batting an eyelash in his direction, and your indifference seems to tick him off.

"How long are ya gonna keep ignorin' me for?" 

"Until you tell me what you plan on doing after high school," you tell him sharply.

The blond lets out an exasperated breath, hands going up to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck. "Can we talk about it some other time—"

"Why not now?" In your defense, you didn't really mean to cut him off. 

"(Name)," he pleads and the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard for a moment. "I didn’t want to be keeping stuff from you—"

"But you _did_."

That shuts him up for a moment, and you can practically see the way shame settles across his usually apathetic demeanor. You know that Atsumu's genuinely apologetic, but there's something about the fact that he hasn't once uttered a word about his scouting status just makes you feel so, so...betrayed. You were there for each other all your lives. What makes speaking about another milestone so hard, when you've borne witness to several of each other's major life moments already?

“Alright. Fine,” Atsumu relents, sitting on the floor in front of you. “I’ll tell you everything.”

You glance around for anyone who might overhear your conversation, but the rest of the students who passed with Setsuna's offer for snacks were at the other side of the gym. With a sigh, you sit cross-legged on the wooden floor, eyeing your boyfriend warily.

The setter gulps, and you watch the way his agitation etches itself on his face. It’s a sight to behold, really—Miya Atsumu a quivering mass of nervousness sitting right across from his girlfriend. 

"Matsuhara-san actually offered me the same thing he offered last year to that guy, Ushijima," Atsumu finally speaks. "I could, uh, not go to college and train for the professional league in Tokyo. But... the thing is—I _want_ to accept it. I _want_ to meet even more people to play against; people like Tobio and Shouyou who always keep me on my toes." 

With each word he speaks, it’s as if his inhibitions are slowly being stripped away. Maybe the fact that you were listening intently to what he has to say spurred him on. But either way you can feel your heart swell at the way he talks about his dreams so passionately. You already knew the truth from the start, and you were more than ready to support him no matter what. Why did he have to go through all that effort to hide all this from you?

“But I also don’t want to be too far away from you.”

_What?_

You stare at him with lips parted with incredulity. Is he really second-guessing a once in a lifetime offer for _you_?

“You’re kidding, right?” you ask, more mortified than you intended to sound. “You’re not _that_ much of an moron, are you ‘Tsumu?”

Atsumu laughs, leaning back on both of his hands as he stares up at the ceiling. “For you? I’m an absolute fool—ow! What the fuck?”

Your palm stings from where you smacked him on his shoulder, face burning as you feel your heart stutter inside your chest. “If you turn him down for a useless reason like that, I’m going to kill you.”

“That’s the thing,” Atsumu says pouting. “I put off telling Matsuhara-san my answer for a good few weeks but...I think I’m going to agree to it now.”

Your gaze narrows. “Why’d you make up your mind after mulling over it for so long?”

He grins—that beautiful smile of his still sending tingles down your spine. “Well, I didn’t know talkin’ to my girl ‘bout it will make me feel more at ease. Thanks for that. I'm sorry for keeping it a secret?”

"God, you are such an _idiot_!" you scold him before engulfing him into the tightest of hugs you've ever given. Atsumu grunts at the sudden affection, but relaxes into your touch nonetheless. 

"Hey, the lovers are done quarrelling!"

You turn your head to face Kosaku, who's grinning like a sleaze with Ginjima, Osamu, Suna, and even Shizuka tailing closely behind. Suna clicks his tongue in annoyance before kicking Kosaku in the shin. "That was a terrible joke." 

"But it's not even a joke!" 

Shizuka squeezes herself past Osamu and Ginjima, calling out your name. "Catch!" 

You awkwardly fumble with the rice ball she tossed your way, and Atsumu says that if you were a volleyball player, your receives would suck. You tell him to go fuck himself.

"C'mon, 'Tsumu. Congrats on makin' up but we still got them tables to move," Osamu offers a hand and helps his twin up to his feet. Atsumu turns back to you, as if asking for permission.

"Go," you insist as you unwrap the rice ball. "It's not like Shizuka and I are going anywhere." 

He nods. "Alright. See ya later." 

When the boys are out of sight once more, Shizuka continues where you left off with the decorations as you ate your rice ball behind her. 

"Oh, by the way, (Name)-chan," she chirps, "do you have a date to the Ball already?" 

You frown. "What?"

Your friend gasps like you just told her something blasphemous. "Don't tell me you forgot that third years are required to have partners in the Winter Ball." 

Well, you _did_.

In your last two Winter Balls, the student council didn't really require everyone to have dates, since they were more of acquaintance parties rather than actual balls for the first and second years. You've gotten used to just showing up in a dress every time the event came around, that it didn't occur to you that you're going to have a grand entrance and everything with a partner of your choice now that you're a third year.

"I-It's Atsumu of course," you tell her, hoping she doesn't catch wind of your forgetfulness.

"He _asked_ you to be his date?"

Your brows knit in confusion. "Uh, does he have to? I mean, I'm already his girlfriend so—" 

"No, no, no," Shizuka interrupts, placing the staple gun on the floor to shake you violently by the shoulders. "Just because you're together, doesn't mean that you're automatically prom dates! That ruins the integrity of the practice altogether. Didn't you ever watch any of those American movies where they do...what do you call those? Promposals?"

You cast your friend a very concerned look. "Shizuka, my point still stands. You’ve been watching way too many dramas." 

But even after that, Shizuka never falters with convincing you that you have to ask Atsumu (or Atsumu has to ask you) so that your status as "prom dates" could be considered legitimate. You aren't really feeling like arguing with her about such a trivial matter all day, so in the end, you play along when she makes you promise to ask Atsumu to be your date before the day ends. 

It should be easy. He'll definitely say yes...right?


	13. Chapter 13

"And then Shu knelt on one knee—"

"Whoa." Atsumu cuts off Kosaku's animated story-telling with an incredulous look. "Knelt, like, _marriage-proposal_ knelt?"

The wing spiker nods. "No shit, dude. He even brought out a velvet box with a necklace in it and everythin'. _Setsuna, will you go to the Ball with me_?"

As the rest of the idiot third years holler at Kosaku's impression of the vice president, you find yourself staring vacantly at the sidewalk. Since classes were dismissed at noon and it's a day devoid of volleyball practice, Osamu beckoned the rest of the third years to play in their backyard; to which everyone, but yourself, agreed on. 

You were supposed to invite Atsumu to have lunch in his favorite restaurant downtown to make up for the time you spent sulking. It seemed like the opportune time to ask him out to be your date, and even though you already know he's going to say yes, it still sucks that your plans were unknowingly thwarted by his own twin brother. 

So here you are, walking a few feet behind them as Kosaku continues filling in your boyfriend with what transpired in the cafeteria when he stayed behind at the gym. You sigh, kicking away a pebble on the ground more out of frustration than boredom. But when you decide to train your gaze at the boys, that peal of irritation slowly fades away. The five of them are laughing like typical high schoolers, and you can't help but think about how similar they look to last year's third years. 

It's already December, and it's also your last winter with the boys you've spent your last three years of high school with. Parting with Kita and the others last year certainly left a mark—no upperclassmen were as reliable as they were—but you have a lingering thought that you might not be able to live it down for a while once you have to say goodbye to the morons in front of you. 

From the awkward conversations during the opening ceremony in your first year to the countless after-school detours in your third year; you were there to witness all their antics as the six of you grew up alongside each other. The days until graduation are crunching past, and you're beginning to wonder if any of them even pondered and reminisced the way you are now. 

"You keep talking shit about Shu when you can't even get yourself a prom date, Kosaku," Suna points out, mouth quivering into a sneer.

Kosaku gasps. "Take that back, you asshole!"

Hm, probably not.

"Oi."

The sound of that familiar voice calling out makes your little group come to a stop. Everyone, yourself included, suddenly has their heads cocked towards the bus stop you all just passed by, mouths agape at the sight of the people standing there. 

"Well?" Aran grins. "Are you all just going to stand there like idiots or are you gonna let us rough-house the shit out'ta you."

One second passes; then two, before Ginjima yells, "Y'all are fuckin' back!"

Given that it's practically the first time you've seen all the third years that graduated a year ago in the same place, it's no surprise when the boys practically fling themselves at them. Ginjima bawls in Kita's arms, lamenting about how hard it is to be a captain (though the latter doesn't seem too keen with the current captain's affections). The twins take turns in receiving tight hugs from Aran—Atsumu practically gate-keeping the wing spiker from his brother. Oumimi and Suna, ever the least temperamental out of everyone, shake hands and engage in conversation fairly quickly. Akagi ruffles Kosaku's hair, asking if he's been stirring up trouble just like the libero used to in high school. 

The presence of travel bags being carried by your upperclassmen take you by surprise. The moment you saw them, you just assumed that they all agreed to drop by Hyogo at the same time, but it seems like—

"Hey, (Name)! What're ya doin' just standin' there," Aran yells for you. "Aren't you happy ta see us?" 

The reality of how much time has passed since all of you met like this sinks in when Aran acknowledges you. Though you've been reunited Kita only recently, seeing all of them together makes your heart race. All of a sudden you feel like there's cotton matting your tongue and your vision begins to blur at the edges.

"You couldn't have had better timing, huh?" you sniffled, wiping away the tears with the heels of your palms. 

"Alright, which one of you idiots made (Name)-chan cry?" Akagi drawls, cracking his knuckles menacingly. 

"Akagi-san, aren't _you_ guys the ones responsible?" Kosaku asks, raising his hands to pacify his senior. 

The libero blinks before staring back at you. "Oh. What? Why would seeing us again make you—"

"Hey, 'Samu," you cut him off, raising your voice unnecessarily, "aren't you going to invite them over, too?" 

Thankfully, Osamu plays along. "Hm, you're right. Oi, Kita-san, do you guys wanna play?" 

"That was Aran's plan all along," Kita says, mouth twitching into something that isn't quite a smile (but you'd like to think that it is). "Well, lead the way. We haven't got all day." 

Ginjima cocks his head to the side. "Are ya guys going to leave soon, too?" 

Atsumu rolls his eyes, smacking Ginjima upside the head. "Are you blind, cap? They've got all their stuff an' shit. It's obviously winter break." 

"Hey! Aran-san told us they wouldn't be able to make it 'til the twentieth! How was I s'posed ta know that they're on break." 

"Can't you guys just continue bickering at your place?" Suna tells Atsumu with a click of his tongue. "I'm freezing my ass off here." 

"Ah, how can you play if you're freezing?" Osamu smirks.

The middle blocker's eyes practically bug out at what Osamu's words hinted. "You're not telling me that we're playing outside in this weather, are you?" 

"Last one that greets our mom hello will make everyone rice balls!" Atsumu announces, his words garnering the desired effect almost instantly. Ginjima breaks into a run, followed shortly by Aran and Akagi—both of them wheeling off their travel bags across the sidewalk. Kosaku tugs on Osamu and Kita's arms, dragging them with him, while Suna and Oumimi share a mutual sigh, opting to walk at a leisurely pace unlike everyone else that preceded them.

Then, you turn to your boyfriend. "Does this mean you're making rice balls for the team?" 

Atsumu smiles, brushing away a tuft of hair behind your ear. The contact between your skin sends a flush of heat creeping up your neck, and it only worsens once he leans closer to your ear.

"Nope."

And that's the only thing he tells you before sprinting away, leaving you wondering why you believed for a second that Atsumu would purposely lose a wager he made himself.

Nonetheless, a pesky smile roots itself on your lips as you make the short trip back to your neighborhood. With everyone's schedules so disjointed, it'll be a miracle if you'd get the chance to make rice balls for them again. 

* * *

"What's up with you?" 

You're in the middle of making the promised rice balls for the boys when Osamu drops by the kitchen, skin glistening with sweat. Pausing your ministrations, you stare up at him from your seated form on the table with one brow quirked. The silver-haired twin frowns, treading further inside to nudge the refrigerator open with his foot. He wordlessly drinks some water straight from the pitcher, making you wrinkle your nose at him. 

Osamu returns it in the fridge with a satisfied sigh before turning back to you. "Well?" 

"What are you talking about?" you ask, wrapping the shaped rice in your hands in a sheet of nori. 

"You're actin' weird again," he says, leaning against the sink. "I thought you and 'Tsumu made up already." 

When the nori doesn't stick to the rice ball, you let out a defeated sigh before gazing at the wing spiker once more. "We have. Didn't you see us being all lovey-dovey back in the gym earlier?" 

He gives you a pointed look, unconvinced. "Spill." 

You groan, throwing the aberrant rice ball back on the plate as some of the grains bounce onto the table. Osamu tuts at your impatience, squeezing himself beside you on the bench as he picks up the loose bits of rice. The way he repairs your dish with quick hands takes you by surprise for a moment. He soaks his fingers in the bowl of water you laid out before sprinkling the rice ball with bonito flakes. When he presses the ingredients in place, he then takes the nori you discarded earlier and sticks it neatly at the bottom—creating one of the nicest rice balls you've ever seen. 

"When did you learn to make one?" You marvel at what he just made.

"Tell me why you're bein' so out of it, first," Osamu bargains, munching on the rice ball, much to your disappointment. "I've noticed even before Kita-san brought the others along." 

You're about to answer him with no hesitation, but you do a little back-tracking. "What do you mean, _brought the others along_?" 

The wing spiker stops chewing for a second, noticing that he let something that he probably shouldn't have slip. But Osamu only chuckles at his own self-sabotage, munching away at his treat as usual.

"Yeah. The two of us sorta set the whole thing up," he replies, blunt nails picking at the nori with a gentle smile ghosting his lips.

It's a look that you've never seen him make before. That's saying something because you've spent a considerable amount of time just staring at typically poker-faced Osamu in the past. Being head-over-heels in love with your childhood friend meant that there's not a lot of things about him that escaped your attention. So seeing him looking at the rice ball he made so fondly with another person being the subject of conversation makes you piece things together awfully quickly. 

"It's Kita-san, isn't it?" you whisper, just in case someone could've been eavesdropping. "The person you're seeing." 

Osamu doesn't look surprised when you tell him, and he only grins wider. "Hey, I thought _you_ were the one spilling." 

You shake your head, leaning against the table to face him. "No can do. You have to at least tell me when you started...dating." 

"Quit it. You're avoidin' the topic," he argues weakly. 

"So are you." You laugh, patting his back. "Come on. I won't ask anything else nor will I tell anyone." 

"Fine," he relents before finishing the rest of the perfect rice ball. Though he's agreed to tell you, there's still a bit of uncertainty lining his eyes, and you have half the mind to tell him that he doesn't have to tell if he didn't want to.

But Osamu isn't one to go back on his word.

"About a year or so, I guess? I mean, unofficially, yeah. But I've only gotten around convincin' him to put a label on it a few weeks ago..." 

Your eyes widen to a size of a doe's caught in headlights. A year. They've been into each other for a _whole_ year, and you never even noticed? Some admirer you are, huh? 

Though you're filled to the brim with questions you want to ask, you gave him your word not to pester more than you have to. Instead, you take a deep breath through your nose that comes out a little shaky from your lips. 

"I was supposed to ask Atsumu to the Winter Ball today," you tell him, not seeing any point in beating around the bush. "I mean, he'll definitely say yes 'cause if he didn't I'd kick his ass but... It could've been nice to actually carry it on." 

Osamu nods, chuckling. "I suppose I'm responsible for throwing a wrench in your plans?" 

"You and Kita-san, both." 

The silver-haired twin only laughs louder. "Y'know, there was a time he said you wanted to go to the Ball with _me_ once we're third years."

Once that old pipe dream of yours resurfaces, your composure slips—leaving you sputtering like an awkward high schooler (which you _are_ ).

"T-That's normal!" you insist. "I was in love with you, you jerk! Who wouldn't want to go to the Ball with their long-time crush? Things have changed now! I love 'Tsumu and he's the one I want to go with!"

Osamu is arguably the most level-headed person on the current team. Emphasis on _arguably_ , because at this point, he's hollering like a hyena that's out to unearth all your embarrassing secrets. You knew you shouldn't have trusted Kita with such precious information! Though he's more mature than his brother in more ways than one, it isn't above Osamu to use your past feelings against you (jokingly). 

For a moment, the wing spiker manages to contain his amusement, his laughter being held by tightly shut lips. But your trust is broken just as quickly as it had been restored, when he sputters out a graceless apology in-between giggles. 

"You know what?" You get up from your seat, rattling the plates on the table. This time, Osamu actually does stop laughing like a lunatic and stares at you, surprised. 

"I'm going to ask him right now," you declare, easing yourself out of the bench to stomp over to the entrance to the kitchen. Osamu says something that you don't quite catch because you're already halfway to the front door when he does so. 

Since fate has decided to grace you with the most perfect of timings, Atsumu just happened to enter their home when you were about to call out to him outside. He's wiping a sheen of sweat off his brow with the front of his shirt, but he pauses when he catches sight of you.

"Hey," he greets, brows hefted as his lip curls into a smirk. "Are those rice balls done?" 

"Will you go to the Winter Ball with me?" 

His usual, smug demeanor falters for half a second before his expression morphs into confusion. "What?" 

"I _said_ ," you begin, feeling your heart pick up the pace, "will you go to the Winter Ball with me?" 

In all honesty, you expect him to burst out laughing much like his brother just did not five minutes ago. It's very like Atsumu to shit on you first before taking you seriously, as he always did growing up. But instead of the infuriating reaction you've grown accustomed to, you're met with the sight of his honey-gold eyes straining with an emotion you don’t want to give a name to. His smile turns somber in a split second, and alarm bells begin to go off in your head.

 _He's going to say no. He's going to say no._ **_He's going to say no._ **

He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. "I forgot to tell you, huh?"

"Tell me what?" Your voice comes out sharper than you intended and he winces at your belligerence. 

"Well," Atsumu hesitates, and him seeming so distraught over something looks so strange, you wonder if he and Osamu switched personalities for a day. "Something came up during the time we weren't in contact and..." 

"And?" 

"Matsuhara-san said that..." He falters, clearing his throat. "Um, I can secure my scholarship if I show up at the All-Japan Youth Training Camp this year." 

You cock your head in puzzlement. "But you're already a third year."

Your boyfriend shakes his head. "Not as a participant, but as a trainer. He said if I can make those kids learn a thing or two, the scholarship's as good as mine." 

"I don't understand," you say, crossing your arms over your chest. "What does the training camp have to do with the Ball?"

"Well, the first day starts on the same day the Winter Ball's scheduled." He presses his lips into a thin line, eyes already brimming with apologies. 

You're typically a reasonable person. After all, you wouldn't have been able to manage the volleyball team so decently if you weren't the least bit rational. But right now, you're not Inarizaki's manager. You're Miya Atsumu's girlfriend. This is the last time you'll be able to do something relatively romantic together in the high school scene before he hops on a plane to study abroad. You know you're being childish by feeling sulky about the matter, but fuck. _Fuck_. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," he says, coming forward to take your hands in his. "I'll make it up to you, I swear—"

"You don't have to."

"Huh?"

You force your mouth into a smile, wrapping your arms around Atsumu's massive frame to bring his head to your chest. He awkwardly returns your embrace, but asks what you meant in a muffled voice.

Damn it. You feel your eyes glossing over with the threat of tears once more, and when Atsumu tries to struggle out of your grasp, you only hold him tighter. 

"Going pro has always been your dream, right 'Tsumu?" You blink out the liquid emotion in your eyes, letting them cascade down your cheeks. "You don't have to feel sorry for wanting to pursue the first stepping stone, idiot. The Winter Ball isn't that special anyway." 

"But—"

"No buts," you assert, manhandling him in a way that he's facing the door again; so that he won't see the way your face is damp with tears. "Get out there and tell the others that the rice balls are almost ready." 

Before he can say anything in response, you tread back towards the kitchen, where Osamu has practically gone through the rice you cooked earlier. Pretty rice balls are lined up neatly on one of their expensive-looking plates, but the wing spiker halts all operation once his eyes fall on your face.

Wordlessly, you walk back to the bench to assume your original position beside him. When Osamu doesn't say anything you ask:

"Will _you_ go to the Winter Ball with me?" 

Your eyes are trained on his side profile, and you're hit with a nostalgic sensation of being in love with him all over again. Osamu is gorgeous, and you absolutely don't regret investing your feelings on him at all. 

But he isn't Atsumu; will never _be_ Atsumu. 

"Sure," Osamu says, but you don't feel the way you thought you would in all those moments you fantasized about the idea of going to the Ball with him all those years ago. 

"'Tsumu said that the food's ready," Ginjima interrupts, his head popping out of the doorway before waltzing inside to gape at the rice balls. "Whoa, those look mad tasty! Ya made all these, (Name)?" 

You're about to open your mouth to say, no, you didn't, but Osamu beats you to it. "Yeah. She made every single one." 

The boys all file into the kitchen one-by-one, each praising your supposed talent for making rice balls. You don't miss the subtle look of fondness shared between Kita and Osamu when the former leads the rest of the boys for their snacks. Your heart twists with a speck of envy, and you're glad as hell that Atsumu didn't follow the rest of them inside. 

_You're happy for him_ , you tell yourself as you force out a laugh at one of Akagi's jokes. _You're happy for him._

Oh, the things you'd give to make that true. 


	14. Chapter 14

**_Atsumu [8:34 A.M.]_ **

arent u gonna see me off?

The moment the hand holding your phone hits your bed again, you heave a tired sigh. Your eyes are glued to the ceiling where posters of various boybands and musicians stare back at you. It seemed like a good idea to put those up there at fourteen, but you aren't so sure now, with the way they're crowding the space. Maybe you should take them down next week. Wait, you never cared about the way Taka from ONE OK ROCK has been staring at you for years now. 

Ah, right. It's because you're putting off replying to Atsumu's message. 

You spare the clock on your nightstand a withering stare, and it's been thirty minutes since he sent the message. From what Osamu told you, his plane to Tokyo takes off at noon, and you're beginning to feel the desire to just get over your sulking so you can see him. 

But instead of doing just that, you merely heave a long breath, pulling yourself into a sitting position before finally typing out a reply.

**_You [9:09 A.M.]_ **

Sorry. Not feeling too well. 

"Sweetie, breakfast is ready!" you hear your mother's voice through your bedroom door, voice as cheery as usual.

Just before you can haul yourself onto your feet, your phone chimes with a reply back. You cast it a fleeting glance, just quick enough to go over his message once. 

**_Atsumu [9:10 A.M.]_ **

ok. enjoy the ball for me, will ya?

"As if I could," you mutter spitefully.

* * *

"Oi."

Atsumu spares his brother a backwards glance, irritation lining his features. "What?"

His silver-haired twin stares at him with distaste from where he's lying on the bottom bunk. He put his phone away for a moment, holding his gaze. 

"Whad'dya plan on doing about the Winter Ball?" is his deadpan retort. "I don't think I'm the only one who noticed how bummed (Name) was." 

He has to physically contain his shame so he wouldn't wince in front of Osamu. Of _course_ he knows how disappointed you are. He was right in front of you when he broke the news; saw how the quiet excitement in yours eyes faded into dismay. Your feelings towards the matter are clearly reflected in your texts, and he doesn't really need Osamu to rub that in his face any further.

"I...have no idea," he admits, fingers tightening around the jersey he's stuffing inside a duffel bag. 

In hindsight, he knows that you would've understood if he'd told you about Matsuhara's condition for him earlier. You've always supported him and Osamu in whatever way you could after all. But you've been looking forward to this year's Ball so much, he didn't have the heart to disappoint you so abruptly. 

Yet, here he was—inflicting the damage he was avoiding tenfold.

Osamu is staring at him with a glint of pity in his eyes, and Atsumu wants nothing more than to punch him. He knows he messed up again. His brother doesn't have to rub it in by looking at him like _that_. 

"I think I know how to help ya."

The blond's ears practically perk up at Osamu's proposition. He whips his head back at Osamu, eyes narrowed with suspicion. 

"I'm listenin'," he says, placing his jersey inside before folding his arms across his chest. 

Osamu laughs, a smirk curling on his lips. "I'll tell you if you treat me to a rice bowl at lunch for a whole month." 

"Fuck you," retorts Atsumu but later—swallowing his wounded pride—he adds, "...Do you want the rice sticky or just right?"

* * *

"(Name), Osamu's here to pick you up," your mother announces before opening the door to your bedroom. "Are you ready?" 

Her question is greeted by thick silence when you opt to stare at your reflection in the mirror instead. You never thought you'd get to wear a gold dress, of all things, to the Winter Ball. The sequins glint with each minimal movement you make, and you can feel a bitter taste prickling your tongue because of how much it reminds you of Atsumu. 

The one who's _supposed_ to come pick you up. 

"Yeah," you respond with a despondent sigh, doing a double-take of yourself in the mirror. Your make-up is fine, glittery in all the right places. You didn't really do much with your hair, nor are you in the mood for it. After all, it's only Osamu that's going to be by your arm the whole night. He won't even care if you came over at their place to greet them with tangled hair and morning breath. 

_So would Atsumu._

The facial care products and make-up palettes lined up on your vanity rattle loudly when you slam your hands across the surface. You gulp, staring at yourself hard in the mirror. No, you are _not_ going to let this get to you. It's not like Atsumu ended your relationship, right? He's just going away for a few days because of a training camp he's been assigned to oversee—one he just conveniently forgot to tell you that would coincide with the Winter Ball.

And _no_ , you're not being petty. 

"(Name)?" 

You blink, sighing as you slip your feet into the heels you've paired with your gown. The clock by your bedside table read 6:45 P.M. and though Inarizaki is but a five-minute drive from your house, Setsuna is still expecting you to come early since you're technically still part of the organizing committee. 

"Aren't you a gorgeous little lady," your mother chirps when you pull your bedroom door closed. She's still in her uniform, and you kind of feel guilty for asking her to drive you and Osamu to the Ball when she could just be resting up.

"It's in the genes, Mom," you tell her, stepping closer so you can pull her into a hug. "Thank you."

With the added height, you're about a head taller than her. She wraps her arms around you with a tenderness that never waned as you grew older. You sigh, hoping she doesn't notice the way your arms went rigid the next second.

"Give me a few minutes to get dressed, alright, sweetie?" your mother tells you, smiling gingerly before striding off to her own room. 

You sigh, your skin growing cold from the withdrawal of her embrace.

Once you manage to get down the steep staircase (curse these stupid heels!), you're greeted with the sight of Osamu lounging quietly in your living room. 

He's wearing the same, black suit he wears every year for the Winter Ball, but he seems to have grown into the garment better. You'd always made fun of him and Atsumu for being too skinny for their father's tuxedos, but you couldn't exactly say the same thing now when the sleeves fit Osamu's toned arms perfectly. Volleyball training really does wonders to a teenage boy's body, and if it was you from half a year ago seeing Osamu like this, you would have melted into a pile of mush.

But you suppose things change when you give other people a chance. 

Osamu turns around when he hears the click of your heels on the floor. He's stunned for half a second before he finds his voice and greets you with a simple, "Hey."

"Hey," you say, awkwardly wobbling your way towards the sofa.

The moment you're seated comfortably beside him, Osamu fumbles around in his pockets for a moment, and in that time, your eye catches the bright yellow corsage pinned to the lapel of his coat. You smile, thinking it suits him.

"Here," Osamu tells you, producing a...red corsage? 

He manages to read the question in your eyes and chuckles, tying the silk ribbon to your wrist with gentle hands. "Sorry. They ran out of a matching pair, so this has to make do." 

"It's _so_ like you to go makeshift," you tease him, eyes roving over the luscious rose petals on your wrist. "I love it, 'Samu." 

The smile he shows you is warm, endearing. "You're welcome."

You and Osamu sit in the thick silence of your living room, neither of you opting to say anything. But just before the silence turns uncomfortable, he asks if he can turn on the TV and that alone is a knife cleaving through the palpable air. His amber eyes are trained on the television, but you find yourself unable to focus on what's playing; twiddling with your manicured thumbs instead.

"Is 'Tsumu in Tokyo already?" you ask him quietly.

He hesitates, but answers without looking at you. "Yeah. He texted our mom when he landed a few hours ago." 

You nod at him once, fingers clenching. "I see."

The room is filled again with nothing but the far-away sound of the game show on TV. It's basically white noise in your head, really. Not when so many thoughts are swirling together in your mind. College. Nationals. Atsumu. The Ball. Atsumu. Thinking about your future. Atsumu. _Atsumu_ —

"(Name), you left your purse upstairs."

Your mother's soft footsteps echo in your ears as she descends the stairs, having changed out of her stuffy uniform in exchange for her running clothes. Though she's getting quite old, she still makes it a habit to go on her evening runs. She grins at you, handing you the black purse she'd lent to you for the Ball. 

"Oh, right," you mumble, taking the purse from her hands. "Thanks, Mom."

"Oh, Osamu, you're looking spiffy tonight," she gushes, patting the silver-haired twin's head affectionately. "(Name) here has been dreaming about going to the Ball with you ever since you were freshmen, haha!"

Your face heats up at the reveal, embarrassment latching onto you like an anchor. "Mom, _please_ —"

"Auntie, you're too kind," Osamu says, laughing softly. "But I think we all know who she wants to go to the Ball with now." 

Silence befalls the three of you, and you have half the mind to throw your purse at the TV when the annoying game show sound effects come on air. Your mother's face twists with pity, and Osamu's lips press into a thin line. 

But just before the atmosphere became too overbearing, your mother claps her hands together before seizing both yours and Osamu's wrists. 

"Well, let's get going, kids," she insists, tugging the two of you onto your feet. "We don't have all night." 

* * *

The Winter Ball proceeds as it usually does every year. The first and second years head to the gym first for their acquaintance party segment, while the third years get their honorary red carpet walk alongside their dates of the night after. You've been watching Inarizaki's third years stride across the aisle in between the many tables and chairs designated for the event since freshman year, and you've always marvelled at how each of them carried themselves with elegance and dignity. 

But you suppose that's not how your underclassmen are seeing you right now.

"Oi, (Name), are you okay?" Ginjima whispers from behind you in line. Him and his date, Asuka, shoot you concerned stares.

You let out a staggering breath, letting a shiver run through your spine. "Y-Yeah. It's just a little chilly." 

"Is that really the reason though?" Suna sighs in front, looking back at you distastefully. "Seriously, lighten up a little, (Name)—ow!"

Shizuka huffs, folding her arms across her chest. "Suna, you couldn't be more dense, could you?" 

The middle blocker rubs the spot on his arm from where Shizuka smacked him, eyes narrowed into a glare. "God, why'd I even ask you, of all people."

"'Cause no one else tolerates you enough," she rebuts with feigned sweetness, linking her arm in Suna's once again before turning to you. "(Name)-chan, don't mind this jackass. Be as sad as you'd like."

Frowning you tell her, "I'm not _sad_."

"You are, though," Osamu quips by your side, one side of his mouth quirked.

"Yep, a hundred percent sad," Kosaku pitches in, earning himself a weird look from his date, Erina. 

"Hey, why are you guys ganging up on me all of a sudden?" You squint in suspicion. "I told you, I'm not—"

"Ladies and gentlemen, it's now time for the segment we've all been waiting for," Setsuna's voice can be heard booming throughout the gymnasium. On-stage, she and her date, Vice President Shu, are side-by-side, holding one microphone each. Shu steps forward and continues the rest of their speech with, "Let's welcome, the third years of Inarizaki High for this year's Winter Ball!"

Right on cue, slow, classical music can be heard streaming through the speakers as the third years in the front of the line start the annual red carpet walk. You gulp nervously, feeling your skin prickle with goosebumps. All of a sudden, you feel as if all eyes are on you, and the anxiousness that courses through you is making you tremble in your heels. It doesn't make _sense_. You've never been nervous around crowds. Why are you... Why—

"Relax."

You whip your head towards Osamu, who's merely looking straight ahead. 

"'Tsumu told you to enjoy the Ball for him, didn't he?" 

One of your brows quirk at his words. How Osamu knew what Atsumu said to you in his last text message, you don't really know, but the reminder alone instills you with a familiar calm. You don't have the time to be the downer of the night. Yeah... You've been working alongside the student council for the Winter Ball for so long. Like hell you're going to keep yourself from enjoying it!

"Guess you're right," you chuckle, tightening your grasp around Osamu's arm. "You better be a decent date, 'Samu."

Osamu laughs aloud, mouth curving into a grin. "It'll be a dream come true."

* * *

When the night comes to an end, and Setsuna and Shu are crowned king and queen of the night (despite being hosts), Ginjima insists for your little group along with their dates to wait for the royal couple before leaving. So here you are, occupying one of the tables bared of the fancy linen tablecloth as Setsuna talked with the caterers by the stage. Shu is helping out some of the staff with tidying up, and you're considering telling the boys to help out, too. 

"God, I'm so sleepy," Suna groans as he shrugs off his coat, sinking further into his seat. "'Gin, are you driving us home? Shizuka lives so far away."

"What a gentleman you are, alright," your best friend fumes, kicking Suna underneath the table. 

"I will once the after party is over," Ginjima replies, but isn't quite into the conversation, given that he's showing Asuka something on his phone. Whatever it is, she giggles at it and whispers something to Ginjima that turns his face beet red. 

Feeling your eyelids slowly closing, too, you perk up at the captain's words. "The _what_?" 

"After party exclusive for the volleyball team," Osamu supplies with a mouthful of rice in his mouth. The idiot went for seconds the moment the rest of the students filed out of the gym. 

"And you guys didn't think of telling me about it?" You rub your temples in disbelief. 

Kosaku chuckles from where he's seated, slinging an arm around Erina's shoulders. "Thought you'd like a surprise every now and then, manager. It's why we're waiting for the prez, too." 

You frown at them. "Where exactly is this after party being held?" 

The four boys share a mutual look, and something clicks in the air; like a silent agreement you couldn't decipher. 

Ginjima grins at you like a madman before saying:

"The First Building's rooftop."

* * *

If you thought the stairs at your house are hard to climb in heels, it's near impossible in the First Building. You and the rest of the girls had to go barefoot once you managed to reach the second floor landing, after being laughed at by your dumb dates. 

"You know, men wore heels at a certain time period, too," you argue. "It was a symbol of power—one you morons aren't deserving of now."

Shu shrugs, unfazed. "At least we don't have sore insoles anymore."

"Screw you, too, vice prez." 

"Hmph, men are so preposterous sometimes," Asuka sighs, nudging Ginjima's elbow, "aren't you, Gin?" 

Looking up from his phone, Ginjima blinks in surprise for having been addressed. Strange. Ever since leaving the gym with Setsuna and Shu, he's been typing away on his phone as you made your way to the First Building. 

"Yeah, sure," he plays along. "Kita-san told me they're done setting up upstairs—"

" _Kita-san_?" you parrot, your strides coming to a halt. "Kita-san is up there?" 

Ginjima nods, looking at you like you asked him a stupid question. "So are Aran-san and Oumimi-san. What's an after party without them, right? Well... Akagi-san couldn’t make it. Something about coming down with diarrhea." 

"Why didn't you invite our kouhais then?"

"Ah," the captain drawls, rubbing the back of his neck. "We'll take that into consideration for next year—"

"We're _graduating_ next year," you point out.

Osamu tuts at the two of you, brushing past the rest of your group to continue ascending. "Come on, they're probably waiting for us up there."

"How'd you even talk the prez and Shu into this?" you wonder, unable to contain your inquiries. "Is this even allowed? Doesn't Inarizaki have a curfew? Will we get in—"

"(Name)-san," Setsuna interrupts, smiling gently as she rubs your shoulder. She looks so beautiful with the Ball Queen crown still sitting prettily on her head. "You have my word as student council president that you won't be sanctioned for this. And...don't you think you deserve to unwind a little with your teammates?" 

The rest of them gaze at you expectantly, as if expecting you to burst into another bout of questions once more. You breathe in deep, lip quivering slightly when the thought that the team isn't complete without Atsumu crosses your mind. Atsumu, who's miles away from you. Atsumu, who you didn't even bother saying goodbye face-to-face to. Atsumu—

 _No_ , you tell yourself, steeling your resolve. _You are_ not _a downer, (Name)._

When no protest is heard from you, Setsuna turns to the rest of your little group, grinning sweetly. "Well, shall we go?" 

* * *

"Took you guys long enough."

Seeing Aran in a pristine white suit is enough to lure a gasp out of your lips. You immediately rush to his side, balking off at him for such a bold choice in wear. Aran chuckles and apologizes before demanding that you acknowledge the hard work they put into decorating the place. 

You marvel at the fairy lights haphazardly slipped inside the holes in the chain-link fence. Oumimi's old walkman is placed on a metal chair put away to the side where upbeat music plays in the evening breeze. A single table with a plain white cloth draped over it is filled with snacks, soft drinks, and even candy! (You have an inkling that, if Kita wasn't here, Aran would have snuck in a bottle of vodka or two, but you do prefer dealing with these boys sober.) There are even complementary plants they probably dragged from the floor below for decoration!

"What do you think?" Kita asks as the rest of your company clamor towards the snack table, smiling softly in his navy blue three-piece. 

You chuckle, gaze alternating between him and Osamu. "Don't tell me you guys put this all together just to cheer me up."

Osamu shrugs. "Can't say we're not guilty."

When you smack Osamu in the chest, your eyes wander onto the sleeve of Kita's coat. There, you can see a familiar, yellow corsage encircling his wrist underneath the fabric. Your brow quirks in suspicion, but Kita's voice reels you back into reality. 

"Osamu, aren't you going to ask (Name) for a dance? You _are_ her date, aren't you?" the ex-captain wonders.

The silver-haired twin sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Hm, sorry to disappoint, but I'm not actually her date." 

You whip your head to face him, confusion painting your features. "What?"

Osamu merely grins, walking over to Kita's side to sling an arm around him. The wing spiker then points a finger behind you, and at the corner of your eye, you can see the rest of your friends watching the exchange with rapt attention at a respectful distance. 

"You asked _him_ first, didn't you?" Osamu laughs. 

Then, you can hear footsteps emerging from behind you, each stride just loud enough to announce one's presence. 

"Hey."

It's as if every cell in your body has halted operation in that single moment. No, you couldn't have heard his voice. He's all the way in Tokyo, probably snuggled up in a futon after a long, hard day of whipping those kids into shape—

"(Name), I've got somethin' ta ask you. It'd mean a lot if you faced me, ya know." 

With your heart nearly jumping to the roof of your throat, you turn around, trembling in your dress. You don't even direct your gaze forward, like you're afraid of your expectations not being met. It could be a mirage, right? Maybe Setsuna had the caterers spike the punch from earlier and you're beginning to hear things. 

But when you're finally face-to-face with the so-called mirage, that mischievous smile plastered on his face is enough to paint him into reality.

"Can I have this dance?" Atsumu asks, donned in a maroon suit that you've never seen him wear before. On the lapel, a ruby red corsage, much like the one on your wrist, is pinned onto the fabric, and it takes all the self-control you have left to not break down into a sobbing mess.

You hear Oumimi changing the pop song and exchanging it for one of those slow songs that you can dance to, and...you suppose it wouldn't hurt to play along at this point. Not when the boys and their dates are cheering like it isn't nighttime; when Shu and Setsuna are coming forward to place their royal crowns on yours and Atsumu's heads. 

Not when Atsumu is right here—right now.

"Yes," you breathe, taking his hand in yours, as the tears break the surface of your eyelashes. "Yes. Yes. A hundred times _yes_!"

Atsumu grins, pulling you into an embrace so tight, you're convinced he never wants to let you go. The heat of his body is stark against the wintry chill, and you've never felt so at home until you found yourself back in his arms.

"As you wish," he whispers.


	15. Chapter 15

“So, you mind telling me what you're doing here, 'Tsumu?”

Atsumu breathes out a soft rumble of laughter, leaning further against the chain-link fence as he stares up at the evening sky. The rest of your friends and upperclassmen are frolicking like lunatics in the middle of the First Building's rooftop—dancing and throwing corn chips at each other like a newly invented children's game. While you would have normally told them off for being so unruly, your focus is pinned solely on Atsumu.

The surprise you felt upon seeing him emerging before you has already dissipated, leaving you with more questions than you initially had. What is he doing here? What about his scholarship? And where the _hell_ did he get such a nice suit?

“It's a pretty complicated story, actually,” he humors you, staring at the cup of cola in his hand. “I was really hopeless, y'know? Ya looked so sad when I broke the news, and—”

“Cut to the chase.” Your lips downturn into a grimace, folding your arms across your chest. “I swear, if you turned down that scholarship, I will shave your stupid blond head! You tell me last-minute that you can't show up in the Winter Ball, knowing that I'd understand if you just told me earlier, but _then_ you went on ahead and went against that? Are you trying to play me for a fool?”

He flounders with his words for a moment, panic filling his golden eyes when you start going off on him. “(Name), whoa. I didn't waive the scholarship! I just had...someone else proxy for me on the first day.”

“Someone else?” you echo, feeling the tension in your shoulders ebb. 

The chill of the wintry breeze brushes past your bare shoulders, prompting you to rub your hands on your skin to generate some heat. Atsumu doesn't miss the shiver that skids across your frame, and he immediately sets down his cup on the nearby table, shrugging the sleek, maroon coat off broad shoulders before handing it to you. With surprise lingering in your gaze, you mutter a half-hearted thanks as you drape the weighted garment across your back—blood rushing to your face at such a thoughtful gesture. 

“'Samu's the one who saved my ass,” Atsumu explains further, but your eyes are trained on the way his dress shirt clung so well around his toned arms. But when you realize that he's still talking, you will yourself to stop gawking at his biceps and listen. 

“Turns out, Kita-san has this classmate in Tokyo that's more than qualified ta sub for me in the training camp. Bokuto from Fukurodani...ya know 'im right?” He stares at you expectantly, and you zone back in just in time before he even noticed you spacing out. “Osamu told Kita-san to ask the favor of him so I could delay my duties for a while. I kinda thought it was a reach, but apparently, Bokuto and Matsuhara-san were pretty tight. Convinced the old man to lay me off for a day in no time.”

You've only heard about Bokuto once or twice in passing at official matches. Fukurodani was a regular contender at Nationals, which meant it was nothing uncommon to see him decimating his opponents on-court. But the guy already graduated from high school last year. You've never really immersed yourself in the collegiate volleyball scene, so hearing him do your boyfriend a favor sounded a bit strange.

“He went with it just like that? For a complete stranger?” you ask, incredulous. 

“You won't believe the admiration people hold for Kita-san,” Atsumu chuckles, running a hand through his brushed up tufts of dyed blond hair. “As long as he's the one askin', I'm pretty sure he can pull in a favor or two.”

A soft chuckle rumbles from your chest without you meaning to, and you immediately steel your expression again. You're supposed to be _mad_ at him, not laughing at the reality that Kita, despite his aloof demeanor, is so likeable that he managed to scam Fukurodani's former ace into doing Atsumu's job for him. 

But your years spent with all the bumbling idiots of the Inarizaki Volleyball Team may have weathered down your austerity over time. Even if there's dozens of reasons why you should definitely stay frustrated with Atsumu for pulling something like this behind your back, you can't find it in you to do so. Instead, your frown eases, and you pull your face into a defeated smile. 

“Well, since you already went through all the trouble,” you sigh, chuckling as you slowly close the distance that separates the two of you, “I might as well thank you.”

When your breath fans Atsumu’s face, he merely stays rooted in place—honeyed eyes gazing at you, stunned. Your boyfriend’s musky cologne is sending your mental stability into overdrive. The thrum of your pulse feels almost painfully intense in your chest, and you’re afraid he might hear just how nervous you are from what little space is left in between. But you forcefully gather your courage to make the next move. You’re almost grateful for the added height of your heels as you lean in closer, closer, _closer…_

 _..._ to peck your lips on the corner of his mouth. 

“That’s for keeping secrets from me.” You grin up at him triumphantly when you pull away the next second. 

But instead of the outraged look you expect would contort his handsome face, Atsumu just stares at you like he couldn’t believe you’re standing in front of him right now—the wonder that glimmers in his eyes almost too evident to miss. 

“I-I wanted to share my first kiss with you today, you know that?” The stutter in your words is completely unwarranted because...you didn’t expect him to react like _that_. “But it’s a shame that you just had to ruin it like the stupid, stupid, volleyball meathead you are—”

“I’ll take it.”

You raise your head, pulling your lips into a sneer to mask your agitation. But when his words dawn on you a little late, all you can manage is a strained, “What?” 

Taking you by surprise, Atsumu tugs on your arm with a force you couldn’t resist against, pulling you into his grasp for the second time tonight. But unlike the embrace you shared once you found out he stayed behind—one that made your heart soar with excitement—this hug in particular serves to ground you in place. To bask you in the warmth of his body, reminding you that there’s no one, absolutely _no one_ else you’d want to spend the rest of your tomorrows with. 

“That much is enough for me, stupid,” he chuckles, like that’s the most endearing pet name he’s called you since.

“You’re so unfair,” you complain with a groan, burying your nose in the crook of his neck. “ _You’re_ supposed to be the one that’s flustered. Not the other way around…”

Atsumu laughs, and you feel the vibrations rumbling low in his chest. This makes you aware that you’re sharing an embrace that was definitely longer than the ones you’ve shared in the past. He even makes a show out of it by lightly swaying his hips to the beat, guiding hands immediately going on your hips as he eggs you on to do the same. 

“Can you blame me?” he says, and you want nothing more than to shut him up for having such a beautiful voice. “Not only am I the MVP on-court, but I think it’s safe to say I’m also the MVP in your heart.” 

“Damn, ‘Tsumu. Which cheap pocketbook did you steal _that_ line from?” 

The sound of Osamu’s voice is all it takes to shatter the romantic little universe that the two of you have propagated in that corner of the rooftop. You sigh, disentangling yourself from Atsumu’s embrace, but you let the hand on your hip remain. 

“‘Samu, I swear if you romance-block us one more time, I’ll make you regret it,” you threaten with a traitorous smile sneaking past your defenses.

“ _Romance-block_?” Ginjima sputters in-between laughs. “Is that, like, the Safe for Work version of—”

“I thought I just told you to keep things PG-13, Gin,” Aran sighs. “For all you know, we’re all stars of a cheap pocketbook romance being read right now by young boys and girls. Have some more tact.”

Suna laughs pensively from where he stands between Ginjima and Kosaku. “Aran-san, that’s awfully specific of you.”

“He’s right, though,” Kosaku points out. “It’d be bad rep for the team if we let everyone know that we’re are actually a bunch of horny—”

“That’s it,” you announce in your Demon Manager of Inarizaki voice. “Enough of your stupid little antics, let’s go have fun. Atsumu and I will reschedule our moment for next time.”

Kosaku then throws his head back in unhinged laughter, slugging an arm across Atsumu’s shoulders. “Well, let’s escort these lovebirds, then! Aran-san, pop open the vodka!”

“Kosaku, you’re still a minor,” Kita scolds distastefully all the way from the other side of the rooftop, where Shizuka and the rest of the girls are snickering amongst themselves. “Besides, I told Aran not to bring any of those drinks.”

“I stuffed a beach ball somewhere in the duffel that Kita brought along,” Oumimi quips with a snap of his fingers. “We’ve got enough players for a four-on-four. If we ain’t getting hit with the buzz of alcohol, then a volleyball game is enough to pacify the lot of you.”

“Wait, we have nine boys,” Suna points out before turning to the rest of your friends. “Oi, Shu! You want in?” 

The vice president shakes his head, readjusting the arm that’s snaked around his date, Setsuna’s waist. “I don’t know the first thing about volleyball, dude. ‘Sides, you guys are all even now.”

Atsumu coughs awkwardly. “Are you asking us to play ball in our _prom suits_ , Oumimi-san?” 

“We do it all the time in our school uniforms, though. What’s the difference?” Ginjima points out once he manages to dig up the said duffel, holding up a deflated beach ball that shines with bright colors stark against the darkness of the evening. “Losing team has to treat the winners to pork buns until winter break is over!”

The captain’s proposition is met with groans of disapproval, but none of the boys protested against the farfetched conditions. Atsumu pats your shoulder twice before leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your forehead, the smile on his face glinting in the fairy lights. 

“I’ll win this one for you, babe.” 

Before you can even voice out your surprise with the nickname, Atsumu is already jogging towards the spacious center of the rooftop with the rest of the boys—picking allies and formulating strategies at a moment’s notice. You can only gawk at them and their tendency to collectively operate on a singular brain cell to get things done. 

“(Name)-san, come over here!” Setsuna calls out, patting the empty seat next to her before turning to the rest of her fellow dates. “Alright, girls. Place your bets! Who’s gonna win and why?”

As you seat yourself in-between Setsuna and Shizuka, you can’t help but train your eyes endearingly at the sight before you. The boys of the volleyball team, clamoring to get in place as Suna hits the first serve—the concentration in their eyes akin to that of an official match. Atsumu barking at Osamu not to hit the ball so hard or else it’ll bounce up the fences and into the school courtyard. Your girl friends and Shu engaged in a heated discourse of the probable winner of the not-so beach volleyball game. 

“Hey, what’cha thinkin’ about?” Shizuka, ever the perceptive friend asks you, brows raised as she hands you a packet of corn chips.

You take the treat from her, ripping the packaging as you toss a piece in your mouth—a wide smile spreading across your face. “Nothing in particular.”

From realizing how you felt for Atsumu to making the most of your high school life with your friends, the First Building's rooftop is a place that would forever hold an important place in your heart.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

“(Name)? Wake up.” 

You wrench your eyes open with a snorted breath, mind struggling to register your boyfriend’s face in the darkness of the car. But once your vision settles, you can somewhat make out the toothy grin he cracks at you. Groaning, you manage a sleepy smile as you cup one side of his face with your hand. 

“Why aren’t you this handsome when I’m fully awake?” you joke. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, running his fingers on the hand that’s caressing his face. “I’m handsome _all_ the time.”

“Your sixth grade graduation picture begs to differ,” Osamu retaliates from the driver’s seat with a scoff. “Get going, idiot. You’ll miss your flight if you spend any more time flirting with (Name).”

Atsumu grumbles something about uncalled for rudeness before opening the door to his side, letting the chilly air of the morning into the car. “Alas, my inferior twin brother is right. I must depart.”

“I’ll go with you,” you say the words before you can even think about them. “I-I mean, I’ll see you off.”

Your boyfriend affixes you with another one of his consuming, golden-eyed gazes, before his mouth twitches into a smirk. “Is my girlfriend going to miss me?”

“Shut up and get out of the damn car!” 

With Osamu having volunteered to wait for you at the parking lot (to give you two privacy, you bet), you and Atsumu head towards the departure area at a leisurely pace despite the urgency that Osamu reminded you with earlier.

It’s roughly four in the morning, and you only had about an hour to get ready at home when the afterparty-turned-Xtreme Beach Volleyball Inarizaki Edition ended way too late. You were sure you were going to be on the other end of a thorough scolding once you stepped inside your house, but turns out, the twins got your mother in on their devious plans. She even let you tag along when you told her Osamu was going to drive Atsumu to his _real_ flight for Tokyo at five A.M. sharp. 

Now, no longer are the two of you dressed in fancy gowns and pristine suits. The dream of romance that came with the Winter Ball was already dispelled, and you’re nothing but two teenagers, hand-in-hand in front of the Kobe Airport. 

“You know you didn’t have to drag yourself all the way here when you could’a been sleeping by now, right?” Atsumu laughs airily, leaning on the handle of his luggage trolley while he brings up a hand to sweep a thumb across your cheek. 

Your lip swells into a pout as you stare up at him sulkily. “What if I told you I _wanted_ to send you off like they do for airport scenes in movies?” 

The blond bites down a snort, his large hand going up to your head to ruffle your hair. “You never struck me as the sentimental kind of girl, (Name). I learn new things about you everyday, huh?”

“You want another fun fact about me?” you say, anticipation crawling beneath your skin with the idea that went through your head at the last second.

“What do you mean?” he asks, head tilted slightly in confusion. 

Before you ultimately get swallowed up by your own nerves and embarrassment, you tug Atsumu down by the collar of his shirt, slanting his lips on top of your own. 

This isn’t your first kiss. You know it isn’t, but the feel of Atsumu’s mouth pressed on your own comes with a whiplash of sorts that makes you forget all the times you spent sneaking off with silly boys back in junior high. None of them mattered. Not when you can feel Atsumu snap out of his prior shock, arms encircling your waist as he pulls you even closer to his tall frame. But can this hardly amount to an actual kiss when he’s laughing so much against your lips?

“W-What’s so funny?” you breathe, pulling away with a stark redness to your face. “That’s the fun fact, idiot! That’s how I kiss!”

“N-Nothing,” he sputters, going red in the face as well while he hides his chuckles behind the back of his hand. “I just can’t believe—oh _man_ , you’re making it really hard for me to leave now.”

You inhale a sharp breath before grabbing Atsumu by the shoulders and turning him around so that he’s facing the entrance to departures. “Just go, you stupid volleyball meathead!” The next few words strike you like a bullet to the head, forcing your voice into a whisper when you add, “I’ll give you more when you get back.”

That garners the reaction you’d been hoping for—Atsumu whipping his head back with wide eyes like he can’t believe the words he’s hearing. But, in his typical Atsumu fashion, he recovers in the blink of an eye. “Oh? Well, I’ll take you up on that, then.”

“On one condition,” you tut at him, jabbing a finger in his face.

“And what is that?”

Clearing your throat, you grab a hold of his hands. Those pretty setter hands of his that are slender and well-manicured because if Atsumu hates anything, it’s flubbing his serves because of bad grooming. 

“You have to win Matsuhara-san’s favor just like how you won the game last night,” is what you tell him, cracking him a hopeful smile. 

His gaze softens, the mischief in his eyes dissipating into something a little more sincere. Atsumu plucks out one hand from your grasp to tuck a tuft of loose hair behind your ear. 

“You can count on it, babe.”

Once he finally, _finally_ peels himself away from you, you can only stand in wistful longing as he wheels his luggage to the entrance. He hasn’t even left your eyesight yet but you already miss him. But just before Atsumu can come up to the guard, he turns back around, face splintered into a megawatt smile when he shouts, “I love you!”

The profession stuns you as usual, like every other time he’s told you he loves you. How does Atsumu have it in him to announce something like that in public when you’d probably die out of sheer embarrassment? 

But as he’s pulling out his passport and plane ticket, you’re struck with the realization that there’s no real reason for you to be embarrassed. This moment right here might not be how things usually panned out in movies or in any other unrealistic portrayal of the media. But you do know, from the bottom of your heart, that you won’t ever regret saying these words to him. 

“Atsumu!”

The sound of your voice has him glancing back your way with a question in his eyes, and you don’t miss the way the guard sighs at the inconvenience you’ve made. But you can’t even bring yourself to care.

“I love you, too!” you yell in a volume that’s probably louder than what was acceptable in the current location. Nonetheless, your message carries through just fine. Atsumu’s grin only scales wider, if that’s even possible. 

Not waiting for him to whip up some offhand remark, you immediately turn on your heel—face burning with heat as you feel the stares of the other strangers boarding their respective flights at the airport. 

“Stupid, _stupid_ Atsumu,” you grumble, fingers idly tracing your lips when you still feel the memory of your first kiss burning itself on your skin and in your mind.


	16. Chapter 16

"Wake up, stupid!"

Brows scrunched up with resistance, you squint your eyes when the morning sunlight razes your vision. But an even more bothersome feat that came with your first waking minute are the two identical idiots hopping up and down your bed like five year-olds.

"Christmas party time," Osamu drawls uncharacteristically, and he amps up the force of his jumps to the point where you're becoming concerned with the springs of your mattress.

"Kita-san and the others leave after lunch!" Atsumu reminds, roughly shaking you by the shoulders. "Get up an' get ready, (Name)!"

With a sound that resembles an animal's growl, you brandish the twins with a glare. "If you two don't get the hell out of my room in five seconds, I'm kicking your asses."

"Now, that won't do," your boyfriend chuckles, pressing a fleeting kiss on your forehead. "Come on, it's already seven o'clock—"

"It's only _seven in the morning_?" you ask incredulously, letting yourself fall back on your pillows with a groan. "Didn't we agree that it'll start at lunch time? I never barged into your rooms to wake the two of you up so damn early—even during training camps!"

Osamu tuts before he and Atsumu grab a hold of one of your wrists each, tugging you upright. "It's tradition that current team members will be in charge of preparations, remember? We gotta get our asses at Gin's ASAP or he's gonna call us a bunch of slackers."

"So do yourself a favor and get the hell up, babe," Atsumu chuckles as he nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck, prompting you to push him away sulkily. 

Seeing that there's no getting out of it once the boys have made up their mind on something, you run your fingers through your knotted bed hair, grumbling as you pull your arms out of their grasp. You can hear them doing a celebratory high five behind you when you saunter off to your closet for a decent outfit. 

"How did you guys manage to scam my mom into agreeing to wake me up so early," you question, stifling a yawn in-between the words. "She _always_ lets me sleep in during the holidays." 

"Well, sorry to break it to ya, sweet pea, but auntie doesn't just have a soft side for _you_ ," Atsumu replies coyly, a knowing smile shared between the twins. 

"Haha, very funny." Rolling your eyes, you open the door to your bedroom, jamming your thumb behind you as you continue with, "Get out. I'll have to shower and change before you morons drag me anywhere."

Betraying your expectations, neither of your smartass best friends offer up any complaints, quietly rising from your bed as they file out of your room. But just before you can let yourself relax, however, Atsumu hooks an arm around your waist and tugs you closer to him, making you squeak in surprise.

"Ya don't want me to join you in the shower?" he asks tentatively, wiggling his eyebrows. 

"'Tsumu, can you not drop your gross innuendoes where I can hear them?" Osamu pleads from the hallway, fingers tugging harshly on the neckline of Atsumu's sweater from behind.

"Ack! Y-You're choking me, shitty 'Samu!"

"Keep movin', ya damn perv," he chastises the blond with a hard glare before turning to you. "We'll just grab some coffee with auntie downstairs. Take your time." 

Once Osamu pulls the door behind him, you find yourself unable to repress the smile that's creeping up your face. Despite your prior adamance to having been roused so unreasonably early, it's kind of heartwarming to see them making the effort to come over just to do that. 

It also hasn't escaped your notice that, ever since Atsumu came back from the youth training camp, your relationship with the twins in general never felt more enjoyable than it was now. You (finally) admitting your love for Atsumu seemingly served as the catalyst that took off the weight on all of your shoulders. If there were any inhibitions and the like between the three of you, all of them were gone now. It's as if things went back to the time before you'd unknowingly caught feelings for Osamu in the past—easy, carefree, and just overall pleasant. 

Getting rid of all that teenage angst, you think half-jokingly, can be one of the most important milestones in your life. 

* * *

"You won, huh?"

You're in the middle of replying to a text to Shizuka when Aran settles himself in the seat next to you, eyes trained on the new first years playing charades with the third years.

Inarizaki's volleyball club has an annual tradition of hosting Christmas parties that also serve as a mini-reunion of sorts between the current roster and the newly graduated batch. There's an entirely separate gathering meant for older members, but in these little parties, you get to see the upperclassmen you've looked up to bond with the lowerclassmen that still have a lot to learn. 

"What do you mean?" you ask him, one brow quirked with wonder. 

The wing spiker sighs, sloshing what's left of the drink in his cup. "You made a risky gamble and still won."

Your gaze lights up with recognition, recalling the time you called him all those months before at a desperate attempt to know what you should do with the knowledge of Atsumu being in love with you. It felt so long ago already that you'd forgotten that you also promised yourself that Aran is to be subjected to thorough questioning.

"You've been in love, haven't you, Aran?" you giggle with a lopsided grin. "Come on, who is it?" 

He sighs, failing to mask the grin that plays on his lips. "It doesn't matter. They don't feel the same way." He turns his head back to the rest of the players. This time, it's a tag-team charades battle between Kita and Osamu, and Fukuzawa and Atsumu, making you wonder how they're even deciding on the teams. But you can't let yourself ponder any more about it when Aran begins talking again.

"The thing about liking someone, it doesn't always work out the way you think it will in your head," he says, but you're half-wondering if he's talking to you or himself. "You learned that from Osamu. I learned it, myself, too. But...just because my feelings aren't reciprocated, that doesn't mean I can't be friends with them anymore."

Before the conversation remotely stretches into awkwardness, he follows up with, "Ah, but that hardly matters. You and the twins are as tight as ever, and I'm pretty sure you and Atsumu love each other to bits, no?"

You manage a breathy laugh, thumbs mindlessly twiddling on your phone. "Yeah, you're...right." Your voice only falters because you follow Aran's line of sight the next second. Those dark eyes of his, usually aflame with unbridled determination on court, are glazed over with _something_ that looks sad, almost resigned. 

And they're fixated on Kita and Osamu. 

"Kita-san's—"

Before you can get the question out, however, he's already rising to his feet, flashing you a kind smile. "I almost forgot. Gin told me to go grab some ice from the freezer inside. I'll talk to you later, (Name)." 

And...he's gone. 

"Hmph. It won't hurt to rely on your manager," you mumble sulkily as you finally send the message you typed to Shizuka. "Even if you _are_ alumni already."

You spend another twenty or-so minutes in solitude, merely settling with scrolling through your newsfeed than engaging yourself in their little party games. The boys can use the extra bonding time, too, now that Kita and the others will be heading back to Tokyo later in the day. 

"There she is, the woman of the hour!"

The sound of Ginjima's loud, grating voice rings in your ears and you flick an irritated gaze in his direction. He's grinning from ear-to-ear in a way that tells you he's up to no good. Your lips stretch into a grimace, silently asking what the hell he's on about.

"Now, don't go lookin' at me like that, (Name)," the captain chuckles, slugging an arm across your shoulder. "Did'ja think we're really just gonna let you sit quietly, watching over us like you always do?"

"...Yes?"

Ginjima blanks off for a moment. "Ah, well, _fair_. But we ain't ingrates who turn a blind eye to our beloved manager's efforts."

You stare at him, incredulous. "Don't tell me you just conveniently forgot about the fact that I'm always alone cleaning up the gym after practice."

"U-Uh—"

"How about all the times you guys ate up all the honey lemon slices I made after I specifically told you to leave some for me? Did you forget that, Gin?"

"Hey, no need ta get so true-to-life here, (Name)—"

"And, God forbid, the time you _idiots_ left me back in the Kyoto stadium at Nationals two years ago; only to remember when you're already half an hour into the goddamn trip!" you seethe, but there really is no real anger behind your words. Though being left alone in a place so far from home as a first year was beyond terrifying, you just laugh about it now. In the end, they came back for you, sputtering apology after apology as you boarded the bus. 

Ginjima sighs in defeat, placing both palms up. "Okay, fine. We haven't been the _best_ team to manage—"

"Damn straight," you say.

"—but, we _do_ know when to give our due thanks when it matters." The captain then glances behind his shoulder, where the rest of the players—both alumni and enrolled—are crowding around you with stifled grins and muted chuckles. Suspicious, you drift your gaze back to Ginjima with narrowed eyes.

Atsumu steps forward, handing Ginjima a white envelope as he gives his shoulder a few pats. "My point still stands, she is going to _kill_ you if you give this as a team Christmas gift."

"Nonesense," he replies, assuming his previous shit-eating grin as he hands you the said envelope. "Merry Christmas and thank you, manager!"

"Merry Christmas and thank you, manager!" The rest of the hooligan volleyball players repeat in unison, and you can even see someone snapping a photo in the corner of your eye. 

You still aren't buying whatever it is that Ginjima has plotted, but either way, you accept the envelope, tearing it open only to see—

"A ten percent discount coupon for my next visit to Katsura's Okonomiyaki," you announce flatly, breathing in through your nose as you close your eyes. 

For a moment, everyone merely stands still in their places, awaiting for any sort of response from you. It's so quiet that the only thing ringing in your ears is the soft wintry breeze of Ginjima's outdoor garden. But when you wrench your eyes open again, you shoot up from your seat with a threatening look in your eyes. "Alright, let me have him—"

"Easy there, tiger," Atsumu laughs aloud, steadying you by the shoulders. "We can't go ta Nationals if our captain's dead." 

"Are you telling me to accept that all my hard work amounts to a bunch of coupons?!" 

"H-Hey, there's twenty pieces inside, y'know!" Ginjima babbles as he hides behind Oumimi. "That's, like, sixty yen off every time you drop by the next twenty times!" 

"As if I'd need to eat okonomiyaki that often!" 

Despite your apparent rage, the rest of the boys burst out in laughter, making your frown scale even wider. Do they find your irritation _funny_? But, as composed as always, Kita steps forward as well, clearing his throat which prompts the crowd to pipe down. 

"Gin can still work on his ploys of expressing his thanks, but I'm pretty sure we're all thinkin' the same thing," he says, mouth twitching into a rare smile. "Even back when I was still captain, I have to admit that you bein' there to help round all these troublemakers up made my job a lot easier. You're also incredibly hands-on with our individual training regimens _and_ scheduling practice matches." The ex-captain pauses, and shares a brief look with the rest of the members. "Even if you're just as brutal as Coach Kurosu during training, you're just as important as every player on court—the one that pulls the strings from the sidelines.

"We can never ask for anyone else rather than Inarizaki's Demon Manager."

You notice that everyone else is gazing at you, not with ridiculous expressions, but with a subtle gratitude lining their stares. It instills you with a strange kind of warmth, albeit pleasant. You've gotten so used to cleaning up after them without hearing any words of thanks in return that seeing all these idiot athletes all together to collectively pass on the message may have struck a chord. 

"Shut up," you mumble, swallowing the lump in your throat as you wipe a bit of moisture from your eyes. "You guys have no right to tell me all this when I'm graduating next year..."

"Then, let's make the manager's last year the best!" Riseki pipes up somewhere behind Osamu. "Let's win Nationals for (Name)-san!"

The mention of the Spring Interhigh seems enough to rouse the fire in each one of their eyes. "For (Name)-san!"'

"No. That's a weird motivation. Can't you guys just try to win Nationals because you want to beat your rivals like normal teenagers?!" you cry out, and you feel Atsumu chortling right next to you. 

"Well, if ya don't like the Christmas gift you got today," he begins, a wicked glimmer of determination sparkling in his golden eyes. "I promise you'll love the one we'll give you on the last day of spring." 

That's the line that did you in, you think. You feel all the retorts you can think of evaporating from your tongue as you relax into your boyfriend's grasp. All around you, the rowdy boys of the Inarizaki Men's Volleyball Club are engaged in their own conversations about the upcoming tournament, vowing to crush Karasuno, specifically. You find yourself grinning, yet _again_ , as you resign yourself to the fact that there simply isn't going to be any way you can keep them in order. Foxes, by nature, are free-spirited and hate being caged under strict circumstances. The team didn't receive the namesake for nothing. 

"You better do good on that promise, then, shitty Atsumu," you tell him, pressing your mouth to his cheek before tugging on his arm. "Come on. I want some karaage, and Gin's mom makes _reaaaal_ good karaage." 


	17. Chapter 17

New year's rolled by faster than any of you could have anticipated, and the next thing you know, you're climbing up the nearest shrine with your fellow third years. 

The aged stone steps are blanketed with a thin layer of snow that came apart with muted crunches underfoot. If you aren't careful, you might slip and fall a few steps down, but you eliminate the possibility since your arm is securely linked around Atsumu's. Your boyfriend is prattling on about a seafood restaurant downtown that opened their doors for business only a few days prior. His excitement gives you the hunch that he's hinting about the location of your next date, but you push away your suspicions so he can take advantage of the element of surprise. After all, you love Atsumu the most when he's being thoughtful. 

At the back of your little prayer group, Ginjima is lugging Kosaku into watching a new crime series that came out recently while Suna and Osamu hang a few steps back, bonding over hushed whispers. This is the first time you paid a shrine visit with all of them, and admittedly, the presence of the boys alone is enough to help you beat the wintry chill that enveloped the city of Kobe altogether. A fond smile crosses your face as you stuff your mitten-clad hands into your pockets. Atsumu, however, is keen to notice your absentminded glee.

"What're _you_ smilin' about?" he asks, mouth twitching into a lopsided grin.

You breathe out a laugh through your nose as you shake your head. "It's nothing. I'm just...glad everyone's here."

Atsumu affixes you with a petulant stare before saying, "Sap."

"Hey!"

The shrine isn't as busy at ten in the morning, and all of you manage to reach the wooden offertory box not twenty minutes after reaching the hill's peak. After ringing the bells a few times, you clap your hands in prayer, head bowed with reverence as your companions follow suit. A soft smile tugs at your lips—knowing too well that you all harbor the same, singular wish. 

_Please help us win Nationals this year_.

You open your eyes with newfound fervor, tossing a few hundred yen coins to somehow appease the gods before turning to Atsumu. His bangs are falling across his eyes now, but that doesn't make him any less endearing when he beams at you with a contagious smile.

"Wanna go use those coupons we got ya for Christmas?"

And just as quickly as he makes your heart flutter, your boyfriend kills the mood with his undying cheekiness.

"Sure," you say, one eye twitching. " _If_ you want me to beat you up after, that is."

"Aw, babe. Sorry to break it to ya, but domestic violence ain't my thing," Atsumu laughs, slugging an arm over your shoulder as he calls out to the other guys. "Oi, (Name) and I are gonna go on ahead."

Your brows pinch with confusion. "We are?"

Osamu nods from where he stands. "Gin said he wants to hit the arcade. Tell Ma I might not eat lunch at home."

"Gotcha."

Once all of you exchange farewells with a wave of hands, you turn to Atsumu as he leads you down to the main road at a lethargic pace. "What's up?" you wonder, not liking the mischievous quirk of his mouth as his honey-gold eyes stare straight ahead. Oh, you know a plotting fox when you see one.

"Well, remember that time at the airport? When ya told me _I'll give you more when you get back_?"

You can't even afford to get mad at his poor, high-pitched imitation of your voice when your face flushes the next moment—vividly recalling that promise you made. He still remembers that? Those words were a heat-of-the-moment thing! Irritatingly enough, you're reminded that Atsumu has an annoying ability to retain pieces of information that can benefit him in the future. 

And from the tone of his voice alone, you know he's come to collect. 

"Y-Yeah, what about it?" you mumble, wondering how far feigning innocence can get you. 

Just before you can safely hop onto the lowest level again, Atsumu seizes your wrist, tugging you close to his chest before you can even protest. A soft squeak escapes you as he trails his cold fingers across your face—a fond look glazing over his honeyed eyes.

"It's cold out, ain't it?" he whispers, free arm curling around your waist in a compromising position. You gulp, knowing fully well that you two are still at the foot of the shrine and a bunch of visitors can definitely see you like this. But it's as if his smoldering gaze has trapped you in a gilded cage made of gold, and you have nowhere else to run. 

Atsumu is a guy who jokes around twenty four-seven. As someone who grew up alongside him, you know this for a fact. But there are times when you think that the playful glint in his eyes dips into something...more. More _what_ , you never really dwelled on too much, but with everything you've been through with him for the past year, you're feeling a bit bolder. Like he injected curiosity straight into your veins, and all of a sudden you want to know what's hidden beneath the mischief in his eyes.

(And when your gaze lands on his soft, pink lips, suddenly you want to remember how they feel like pressed against yours.)

"Yeah, it's cold as hell," you whisper back, breaking free from his embrace as you lace your fingers with his. A gentle smile that teases the beginnings of a smirk hooks across your mouth and Atsumu arches a brow as you tug him down the steps. 

"Do you want to get warm with me, 'Tsumu?" 

* * *

You feel lightheaded. Like you're dreaming, floating in an endless sea of clouds. 

Realistically, though, you know that it's the oxygen deprivation that's causing this. But you like to think that it's Atsumu's kisses that are making your soul strain against the boundaries of your body—aching more of the heavenly caress of his lips on yours. 

You aren't very sure what exactly it is about the two of you making out in your room that's making you feel so greedy, so _insatiable_ , but every time Atsumu breaks away for a breather, all you want is to tug him back down. Any cohesive thought is shoved to the back of your mind, nothing but the feel of your boyfriend's solid frame pushing you further down the mattress. And whenever his moist tongue brushes against yours, it's a little difficult to think about anything else apart from the fact that you can do this forever. 

The thought is something you wouldn't think about were you in a proper state of mind, but if you had doubts about your feelings for him in the past, you're sure as hell that Atsumu has resolved that now that he's gotten you addicted to his kisses. 

Atsumu dips his tongue into your mouth. You breathe a slow sigh against him before teasing his appendage with your own, only for him to angle his face a little more for some more leeway. The whimper that reverberates in your throat has him grinning cheekily against your lips, but frankly, you're too distracted to tell him off.

"Wonder if auntie knows that her precious daughter can make such cute little sounds," he rasps, trailing his mouth across your jaw as he plants even more fervent kisses. 

You manage a breathy laugh, lips growing numb from all the kissing. "Bringing up my mother while you're doing dirty things with me is a bit tactless even for you, 'Tsumu."

"Dirty?" he repeats, raising his head to face you. "A love as pure as ours ain't gonna be called that." 

"Sure," you play along, raising your knee to gently massage the growing hardness between his pants. "Let's say I believe you."

Atsumu laughs, low and dangerous as he moves to tug his shirt overhead before discarding it to a heap on the floor. He gazes down at you with eyes like starlight, a haze of desire clouding his golden irises. But as your eyes drift lower and lower, you take a moment to admire the body he's been working his ass off for since your first year. 

Feeling a bit impish, you pout at him. "It's sad to think I'm not the first girl who's seen you like this."

"You're the _only_ girl that matters to me, though," he insists, fingers toying with the hem of your sweater. 

"Seriously, where _do_ you get these bad pick-up lines?" 

Your boyfriend answers you with another kiss—a forceful one that coaxes a groan from you. When he pulls away again, he grins at you lazily. 

"Have I convinced you now?"

You place a finger on your chin, eyeing the ceiling in false contemplation. "I don't know. I feel like you can do a better job at persuading me, Miya-san." 

"Oh, what the hell? That was kinda sexy," Atsumu admits, stifling his own laughter.

"Don't push it." You narrow your eyes, propping yourself up with your elbows to rid yourself of your sweater. A prominent blush colors your cheeks as the cold air seeps into your skin, but you know better than to feel embarrassed in front of _him_ , of all people. 

Atsumu moves beside you on the bed, tucking his legs underneath him as he spares himself a few minutes to watch you. He raises a hand to your face once more, brushing those nimble fingers against your cheek like he did earlier at the shrine. But the hunger in his eyes is replaced by something more...sincere. It's a look laced with fondness so prominent, you can feel yourself melting under the heat of his gaze.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes like he can't believe you're actually real. 

You return the gesture by clasping your own hand on top of his, leaning your face further into the warmth of his palm. Atsumu's eyes droop half-lidded, lips parted in muted disbelief as he heaves a sound caught between a sigh and a laugh. This is unfair. If he keeps looking at you like that, you might just end up thinking about how beautiful _he_ is instead.

"Ya really sure about this?" he asks, bracing his forehead against yours. "I'm an ass, but I'd never rope ya into doin' anythin' ya don't want to."

This probably isn't the time to be giggling, but nonetheless the sound slips from your mouth with an easygoing air. Atsumu's lower lip juts out a bit, but can he blame you? Roughly six months ago, you never would have pictured yourself together with him—much more hear him ask you for a green light. But his is a kind of diligence that you think he's reserved for you, and you alone. It shouldn't even baffle you anymore that your typically indelicate best friend actually has it in him to surprise you even now. 

Your hands find their way behind his neck, fingers gently teasing the ridge of his undercut. Atsumu almost purrs at the contact, and you allow yourself another laugh when his eyes flash with a sultry look once again.

"I'm in your capable hands."

Atsumu is quick on his wits, getting up from the bed as the jingle of his belt buckle rings in your ears. He wastes no time shimmying out of his jeans, and you have to look away when your eyes catch sight of the bulge in his black boxers. He taunts you for your bashfulness, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss on your forehead as he smooths down your hair.

"I promise I won't hurt you," he murmurs before nipping at the shell of your ear.

A full shudder runs down the length of your spine when you feel him reach behind your back—fingers toying with the clasp of your bra until he unclips it with a single try. You're conscious all of a sudden. Given that _this_ wasn't really on your to-do list for the day, you didn't bother wearing a matching set of underwear. Would Atsumu notice? Would he even care?

"You're too tense, babe," your boyfriend observes, his hands going to your arms where he runs them up and down in a somewhat soothing massage. "Come on. Lemme help ya relax real good."

You yelp when Atsumu gently pushes you to the side, granting him enough space to lay down. When he sprawls his long legs across your bed, he then leans against the headboard, patting his thighs as if urging you to take a seat. Your eyes slant with suspicion but you plant your knees on either side of his hips either way, feeling his budding desire even through the fabric of your leggings. 

"Atsumu," you whine, shifting in your seat when he takes a bit too long marveling at your body. "This is embarrassing."

His mouth curves into a knowing smirk, and you can feel his hands skimming you clothed thighs. "As much as I love seeing ya like this, you're gonna have to turn around for me, (Name)."

"W-What?"

Atsumu lets out a bemused sound as he manhandles you so that your back is pressed against his chest. You could have sworn you felt him...twitch underneath you, but frankly you're too preoccupied with your current position to pay it any mind. The setter spread your knees as far apart as you can manage, and you have to physically bite down the urge to let out a noise in protest. With your back to him, you aren't able to glimpse at his face, completely reliant on the tender touches he gives to make sense of what's going on.

"Ah!" 

You can feel Atsumu grin against your ear as he presses two fingers against the apex of your thighs, rubbing you through the fabric. You know time you spent making out with him made the heat in your belly pool into arousal between your legs, but you still can't help but squirm as your boyfriend promptly takes advantage of your vulnerability. 

"My girl is so lewd," he comments, deciding to dip his hand underneath the waistband of your leggings. "You're already this wet from my kisses alone?"

"Shut up," you mumble, writhing against his chest when the pads of his fingers prod your soaked panties. "I-It's not my fault that you're a good kisser."

A chuckle rumbles in his chest and you can feel yourself grow even wetter with how alluring it sounds. Damn this guy. 

"Praise me even more and it'll get ta my head," Atsumu warns before taking out his hand altogether. You moan in disappointment, to which he responds with _another_ sexy laugh. "Can ya take these off for me?"

Being a slave to the sensations he gives you, you're more than happy to oblige—your bare thighs prickling with goosebumps when you kick your leggings off. Atsumu inhales sharply, greedy hands running up and down the newly exposed skin. 

"That's more like it," he growls. "I'm gonna prep ya up a little, alright?"

You half-expect him to take your initial agreement as enough of a sign to keep going, but the fact that Atsumu still asks before doing anything makes a fuzzy sensation settle in your chest. A gentle smile crosses your face, but it promptly morphs into a croon of his name when he pushes your underwear aside—tracing your slit with the lightest of touches.

When Atsumu prods a finger to your entrance, you tense up at the intrusion. But he notices your unease almost immediately when he uses his free hand to grab your chin, molding his lips together with yours in a tongue-filled kiss.

"'Tsumu, h-hah..." You gasp against his mouth when he begins pushing the digit in and out. Though the slick coating your walls makes the slide easy enough, the stretch of his fingers still feels foreign. 

But it's as if your body recognizes that you're safe with Atsumu—that he means it when he says he won't hurt you. When he slides in a second finger, you practically bounce on his hand, hungry for more friction. This, of course, doesn't escape his keen eyes, and when your boyfriend finally rids you of your panties, too, your mind is already too addled with lust to care.

"Who knew our strict manager could be such a vixen?" Atsumu taunts, and even if there's a biting retort resting on your tongue, it turns to ash once his thumb brushes your throbbing clit. "Oh? Ya like that better?"

"Atsumu," you plead, thighs clenching with strain. "I-I wanna..."

"Mmm? What was that?"

Your cheeks heat up with one part irritation, two parts embarrassment. "I wanna come on your fingers..."

The setter laughs for the millionth time today, nuzzling his nose in the hollow of your neck. "There we go."

You tip your back to rest on his shoulder, eyes rolling in the back of your skull when he teases the bundle of nerves again with just the right pressure. He traces tight circles around the sensitive bud until your back is arching against him—his fingers pumping inside and the external stimulation too much for you to handle all at once. You thrash your hips against the bed, curling one arm around so you can silence your moans with his mouth. Atsumu coaxes you into your first orgasm with his tongue practically shoved down your throat—your pussy clenching around his digits as you feel yourself ascend into the astral plane. 

In the next moment, it's as if lifetimes have unspooled when you're washed back to the shores of reality. Suddenly you're lying on your bed with Atsumu looming over you again. You watch him through hazy tunnel vision as he rolls on a rubber you didn't even know he had. But the mist in your eyes vanishes instantly and you're zoned in on the generous length he slowly pumps with a single fist. 

One of his hands is braced against the space beside your face, and you can see the way beads of sweat roll down his toned chest. Despite the chill in the air, you feel like he's starting fires in you with that molten gold stare alone. 

He dips down to exhale a shuddering breath. "You good?" 

You take your bottom lip in between your teeth, feeling another wave of arousal hit you at the mere sight of his cock alone. With just a tinge of reluctance, you bob your head once in affirmation. Atsumu licks his lips, hoisting your thighs with his arms as your eyes widen with surprise.

"I'm gonna show ya just how much I love you."

He pushes the head of his cock inside before you can even fathom a response—the stretch so much more severe than that of his fingers. You muffle your pained whimpers with the back of your hand, but there's nothing you can do to conceal the moisture that catches in the lines of your lashes. But Atsumu, as observant as ever, leans down to kiss your tears away; grunting with effort as he slowly pushes each inch inside without causing you too much pain. 

"It'll start feelin' good a little later, alright?" he reassures, brushing his lips across yours as he traces idle shapes on your thighs. 

"You promise?" you hiccup before wrenching your eyes closed as you feel a sharp sting inside you. 

"Shhh..." Atsumu says, but it sounds like his self-control is on the verge of snapping, too. "I promise."

Once you feel his hips press flush against yours, a deep breath steals into your lungs as your eyes dilate up at the ceiling. Holy _fuck_ , you've never felt so full in your life. But the longer Atsumu stays still inside, the more the initial sting begins to subside. And when you can afford to make sense of the feelings he's giving you again, you catch his gaze, eyes almost fluttering when you feel him move his hips back. 

"'Tsumu," you moan, too hyper aware of the drag of his cock. 

"See," he points out before bottoming out inside of you in an instant, ripping another mangled noise from your throat. "Can I move now, babe?"

You nod almost too profusely, craving more and more of the delicious pleasure that suddenly licked your libido into life. "P-Please..."

"Heh. I like your spunk."

When Atsumu picks up his pace, canting his cock in and out of your sopping entrance, your hands scramble for purchase on your sheets—fingers curling against the fabric in your desperation to have something, _anything_ to anchor yourself to. It doesn't help that your boyfriend's eyes are trained on you the whole time, as if not wanting to miss a single beat. Those eyes...the same ones that have been observing you with keen fondness since you were kids, are staring at you with so much love in them that you nearly weep with relief underneath him right there. 

"Thank you," you sob, weakly managing to pull him closer. "Thank you, Atsumu."

Atsumu lets go of your thighs and instead snakes his arms around your hips, lowering his face so that he can press your lips into another kiss. 

"What for?" he wonders, the words sounding a bit breathless. 

Your reply turns into a high-pitched moan when Atsumu slings one of your legs over his shoulder, introducing your body to a new angle that makes you see _gods_. But no. You forcibly leash your mind back into coherence. You _have_ to let him know. 

"For loving me," you whisper hoarsely, as you reach up to cup his face in your hands. "And for convincing me to love _you_." 

Something flashes across his eyes, and in the next moment Atsumu buries his face in your neck—his thrusts suddenly becoming more violent. He presses your hips together until you're left wondering if he can meld your bodies together. But with each mind-numbing brush of his cock against your womb, Atsumu slowly chips away at your capacity to think. 

Right now he is all that matters. The heat of his body amidst the wintry chill, the soft breaths of _I love you, I love you, I love you,_ whispered in your ear, and the slightest glimpse of heaven that you want nothing more than to uncover by his side. 

When you feel the familiar pressure building up in your navel, you reach a hand down in the narrow space between your bodies—fingers brushing fast and light across your clit like he did so earlier. His name is a broken prayer that you hope all the deities could hear, and when you come again, you feel as if they're smiling down on you. It's a starburst of colors exploding behind your eyelids and you convulse beneath Atsumu for a few moments before falling limp in his arms. 

He slows his thrusts, accommodating your sensitivity when he feels you twitching from the aftermath. Your boyfriend sighs and peppers your neck with even more kisses until he feels you relax.

"I don't think I can take it much longer," he admits, breathing out a ragged groan. 

As Atsumu brings your leg down to wrap both around his waist, you reach out to pull him in for another kiss. 

"I want you to fuck me 'til you come," you whisper, face burning from your own tenacity. 

Of course, Atsumu delivers like he always does—snapping his hips back into motion with the vigor that your sultry words spurred him on with. This time, his eyes are screwed shut as he pinpoints his release, and you thread your hands in his mussed hair to bring him so impossibly closer. 

Atsumu comes undone with a guttural noise that he silences with a bite to your neck—one painful enough to snap you out of your haze of lust, but one you allow regardless. He pauses and stills, and you can feel his thighs quiver as he empties himself inside the condom. 

"Holy shit," he proclaims as he pulls out of you, collapsing into your mattress with a satisfied sigh. "Whadd'ya think about havin' kids, babe?"

You shake your head at him as he slips the rubber off, knotting the open end before tossing it into the bin. "I don't think Mom would appreciate you knocking me up this early, 'Tsumu."

"But then you'd be mine forever!"

Rolling your eyes, you grab your panties from the foot of your bed, tossing them at him. "Weirdo."

Atsumu swiftly dodges the projectile with a smirk before shifting on the bed to lie beside you. He then throws a blanket over your sweat-stricken bodies, and you feel yourself relax into the warmth of his touch. "Is this gonna be a regular thing?" he asks somewhat jokingly. 

"Don't talk like we're fuck buddies." You huff, looking away sulkily.

Your boyfriend laughs again, and you're beginning to think about how you'll never get tired of hearing the mirth in his voice. Atsumu prods your chin so you can face him, eyeing you through a window of golden irises once again. 

"You're my _woman_ ," he proclaims, nuzzling your nose with his. "And you'll never be anything less than that."

This time, you're able to manage a few chuckles in return as you let yourself snuggle closer into his heat. The snow might be raging on outside, but Atsumu's warmth is all it takes to quell both the chill in the air, and the doubts in your heart. 

* * *

"(Surname)-senpai, let's go! The game starts in five!" 

Juggling about six bottles of Pocari in your hands, you breathe out a defeated sigh as you pick up the pace. You knew that Rina, the first year you recruited to be the next manager, was a lively spirit, but to think that her urgency bests even yours is a bit unbecoming of Inarizaki's Demon Manager. "Coming!"

The two of you make it to the court right on schedule with the boys nearly popping their heads off because they were apparently panicking at the absence of both their managers. 

"Sorry, it's my fault," you explained, handing each player a sports drink of their own. "I forgot to bring the water bottles onto the bus, but Rina here spotted a vending machine on the way so..."

Ginjima hollers somewhere behind you. "It's so weird for you to forget things, (Name)! Are you a grandma already or somethin'?"

"Shut up, it's not _my_ hair that's graying at age eighteen, Gin!"

The captain gasps. "Take that back, you fiend!"

"Oi, cap!" Atsumu calls out to where you notice the rest of the boys have gathered to the side. "It's time for a huddle. Be more responsible for our last game, will ya?"

Ginjima mutters something you don't quite catch before jogging in their direction. Once the scatterbrained captain is out of earshot, you plop yourself onto one of the seats with a groan. Admittedly, you've been neglecting your own work outs as of late. It's been a while since a quick lap around the stadium made you breathless like this.

"So _that's_ Karasuno..."

The evident awe in Rina's voice is clear enough to make your ears perk up. When you sit upright once again, you see that the players of the team you're playing against in this year's Spring Interhigh Grand Finals are having their own team huddle. But even with the distance that separates them from Inarizaki, you can clearly see a head of ginger hair that you've been watching closely since the season started. 

"Yup," you say, smiling as you feel yourself grow more fired up as the minutes pass. "They beat our asses last year, and I'm sure the boys are gearing for vengeance."

The ref's whistle rings in your ears as he calls in for the starting six to come forward. You immediately get back to your feet as your boys slowly disperse to do some last-minute stretches. As you pass by each one, you give them all commemorative pats on the back for having made it this far. 

But of course, you'll always have a bias for a certain setter. 

"Did ya come to kiss me good luck or somethin'?" Atsumu asks when you linger in front of him as he laces his shoes tighter—hopping onto his feet before pushing his hair back. Damn it. He looks exceptionally breathtaking today.

"Maybe," you tease, bumping your hip against his. "I'm expecting my _real_ Christmas gift after the match, alright?"

"Heh. As if I'd forget." Your boyfriend pats your head, mussing your hair in a way he knows you loathe. "One Spring Interhigh trophy for the pretty lady?"

Taking him by surprise, your arms wring themselves around his neck as you pull him down for a quick kiss—not minding that hundreds of cameras and spectators can see. Besides, you want to see Miya Atsumu's girlfriend make the headlines, too!

"Go get 'em, babe," you say as you pull away; shoving your boyfriend closer to the court. Atsumu stumbles a little on his feet, obviously baffled by your apparent audacity. But nonetheless, that shit-eating grin roots itself back on his face like always, and suddenly you know he's going to make good on his promise.

"You can count on it."

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to thank all my pals from Quotev for consistently feeding my closeted Atsumu thirst. I never would've made it this far w/o you guys so thanks a lot!!!! And of course, to everyone who's been rooting for this fic since the beginning. I might have gotten tangled up in my own inability to organize my stuff, but thank you so much for sticking by me. 
> 
> As usual, you can find me on [tumblr](http://hirugamis.tumblr.com) or pitch in on [ko-fi](http://ko-fi.com/kaientai)!~


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